fanf

dbh

detection. Alice didn’t even alter her appearance and she made it here safely. Clearly, humans weren’t good at identifying deviants without android markings.

“I may take you up on that,” Connor said. The RK800 could alter all aspects of his appearance at will but Kara’s offer to assist was unexpected and nice so he was reluctant to dismiss it. “Thank you. I mean that.”

“I’m not sure when we’re leaving yet. Luther and I will hammer out the details and keep you in the loop in case you do decide to join us.”

A knock on the door caught the duo’s attention. Alice scampered and threw open the door with a grunt.

“Benji,” Kara greeted. “How are you?”

The AC700 had the classic fit build of a sports partner model, wearing jeans and a basic black shirt, but his face remained stoic even as he gave Kara a thumbs up. He focused on Connor, skin projection peeling back from his hand as he reached out.

Connor moved his arm away. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”

Benji nodded and reached forward again, undeterred.

Connor evaded his hand again. “And what’s that?”

An android’s code was the most intimate thing about them. A few tweaks and technicians could change anything. Connor didn’t trust handing his code over to a near stranger, despite North’s conviction and Kara’s presence.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Benji’s face and he held up his hand.

“What—”

Benji snapped his finger and a display appeared on his palm. Connor watched as a rapid series of images and text flashed over his palm, too quickly for a human to decipher, but at a reasonable speed for an android. An uncomfortable feeling coursed through his circuits.

Connor quickly scanned Benji, wincing at the multiple red error messages. The vocal synthesizer under Benji’s skin projection was completely destroyed. Though destroyed implied it could be repaired or replaced. Whoever did that to Benji welded and mauled the vocal synthesizer and the surrounding circuits, ensuring nothing would allow the AC700 to speak again without a complete overhaul.

“Um sorry,” Connor said.

Benji shrugged, a few more images flashing—two humans, both with burglary charges, featured in them. One image showed a human adjusting Benji’s code to better hack into security systems and another ensuring Benji would never be able to speak again, likely reasoning if the cops confiscated the AC700, they wouldn’t glean any information. Though the humans forgot two things: if confiscated, cops would scan the android’s memory bank and there were several ways androids can communicate, not just with their voice.

“I’m just nervous,” Connor said. His gaze dropped to his hands, taking in his flannel sleeves, not Cyberlife issued jacket. “But I’m more worried about Cyberlife trying to use me again.”

Benji nodded, showing flashes of his and North’s conversation. Clearly, Benji had been thoroughly debriefed, though Connor now felt horrified his override program may be in other android models. North caught more than he expected. This was bigger than Connor. His personal peace of mind and stopping the barrage of error messages was wanted but finding the remains of the override program to make sure Jericho wasn’t filled with sleeper soldiers? That was needed if the revolution was to succeed.

“You can go ahead when you’re ready,” Connor said.

Benji let the skin projection draw back from his hand again. This time he held his hand in front of him. Ready to interface whenever Connor reached out.

“I’m right here, Connor,” Kara said, “and I’ll be here when he’s finished.”

Connor let out a breath and grasped Benji’s hand.

Chris turned down Buschelman Street, patrolling for any signs of androids per instructed but mostly thinking.

This week started rough and showed no signs of stopping its nosedive deeper into this nightmare. First thing first, there was an android uprising which no one but cheesy Hollywood movies anticipated. Overtime became mandatory with their normal duties escalating as people grew more paranoid, androids grew bolder, and the FBI grew more entitled using the DPD forces. All the while his wife, Sherry, refused to visit her parents in Montana without him by her side.

Then there was Connor. Because who saw that one coming? Sure, everyone ranted about androids taking their jobs but, last he checked, androids weren’t smart enough to make deductions, adapt to any crime or suspect thrown their way, and defuse high-stress situations. If Perkins gave accurate information—and, despite Perkins’s prickly attitude, there was no reason he’d lie—Connor could do all that then some. It was unnatural.

Police androids were designed for basic tasks like guarding the perimeter and directing traffic. Stick any of them in a crime scene to actually investigate and they’d flounder. Well, the android version of floundering—idling to the side.

Yet Connor was Sherlock Holmes and the Terminator. Not at all the typical android on the market.

All androids were advanced technology, don’t get him wrong, and imitated the perfect human at whatever menial task they were assigned, but Connor proved how much potential androids had to takeover and eradicate human imperfection. For all the cases Connor closed while integrating with the DPD, no telling how many he could solve without the handicap of faking being human.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. No telling what all the deviants could do banding together either. And no telling if deviancy was this ‘android awakening’ or a mass glitch Cyberlife failed to cover up. Hank, if he had any insight on deviancy, wasn’t speaking to anyone and the FBI wouldn’t share anything. If deviancy was a glitch, it seemed to cause androids to lash out and flee, which was the opposite of Connor joining the DPD. Not only join, but befriend some officers. Befriend him.  Nothing made sense.

“Quiet night,” Officer Peter Jefferson said from the passenger seat. 

Quieter than most since Chris was usually a better conversationalist. “Oh yeah. Not too unexpected since the deviant’s broadcast. Most people are staying in as much as possible now.”

“Yet we can’t even relax because who knows what these robots will do next,” Peter said. “Shit, I’m still not over Connor’s double. It’s so creepy. Just staring at nothing all day and following Perkins like a dog. I’m shocked we didn’t get any of that from Connor.” Peter snorted. “Though I suppose it followed the Lieutenant and Tina around enough.”

Chris grimaced. The Lieutenant had been getting better. Everyone saw it. Less bitter, less closed-off. Chris didn’t catch Hank’s face when Connor 2.0 marched into the precinct but they crossed paths when Chris left his interview with Perkins. The smell of booze and the haunted look was too reminiscent of the Lieutenant’s depressive episodes after Cole died.

And, for the first time since Chris knew her, Tina kept her feelings close and poker face firm, ignoring any Connor or deviant-related conversation.

“You talked to it more than I ever did,” Peter began.

Chris tensed. “You were on Connor’s laser tag team.”

“Yeah and its aim was impressive for the two seconds we played, which is unnerving since androids shouldn’t be able to shoot any type of gun.”  Chris hadn’t even considered that. “But did you have any idea about Connor?”

“I don’t know, man,” Chris said. “Looking back on it yeah I guess but it wasn’t like I was looking for an android in our newest detective.”

“Yeah…” Peter said. “I hate how easily it tricked us. We should have thermal scanners on every door so we know exactly what’s what and who’s a real person.”

Chris fiddled with the police scanner. “Do you think what they say about deviancy is true?”

“Last week, I’d say no,” Peter said, “but now who knows? That deviant leader either has opinions or its owner wants Cyberlife stock to plummet. Seen some cool theories about that on Reddit actually.”

“Nice,” Chris said absently.

Peter tapped the DPD tablet. “What about you? You team robot emotions or nah?”

“Not sure,” Chris said, voice strained but Peter didn’t seem to notice. “If Connor was a deviant, he acted more human than some people we work with.”

“Androids are programmed to be friendly, right? So that’s not really ‘emotion.’ ”

“Connor was snarkier than any android I’ve ever met,” Chris said, “and he got irritated too. At Hank and Gavin mostly, but still, he wasn’t friendly all the time. Sometimes he was so stressed I got gray hairs.”

“Connor is supposed to be some failed prototype or something. Maybe Cyberlife just added to its dialogue wheel,” Peter said. “I’d give anything to talk to it again. See if I could pick up any cracks in its act.”

“Yeah, I want to talk to him too,” Chris said quietly.

Peter’s tablet dinged and the officer swiped at the screen and groaned.

“Just got an alert that one of our police drones went down five minutes ago. It’s probably fine but protocol…”  Peter rolled his eyes. The typical reaction to the tedious checkups on police drones that were usually a waste of time. Those things got stuck in everything and failed to fly back to their charging station before it was too late more often than not. Sure, sometimes kids or criminals tampered with them, but few people were out during curfew.

“Protocol,” Chris sighed. “Where to?”

“On Rose Street.” Then Peter’s eyes widened. “By a Cyberlife store.”

Chris turned on their siren. “Stay sharp.” 

He took a sharp right and gasped at the scattered mob of androids swarming the street.

Blue stained his hand under his skin projection. An AX400 with Kara’s face laid crumpled on the ground, her thirium pooling on the street. He should have known violence was inevitable. The rapid shots and scattered bodies were proof enough of that. Humans refused to see what was in front of their faces and androids refused to remain silent.

Blue placed a hand on his shoulder, familiar as if they didn’t just meet two hours ago with only a woozy-but-pretending-not-to-be-woozy Connor to break the ice. “Come on.”

Luther didn’t budge as she tugged him towards the flashing red and blue lights. Saffron hovered nearby, thirium smeared on her shirt but it wasn’t hers since she stood upright and Blue ignored her.

“I need to see them and I think you do too,” Blue said.

“I don’t need to get closer to see that humans are murders,” Luther said.

Blue opened her mouth but closed it when Saffron wrapped a hand around hers. She silently pulled her partner into the crowd of recently deviated androids experiencing rage and sorrow for the first time. So many of them growing alive to be shot down not even ten minutes later. A nearby KR900 screeched static instead of comprehensible words, leaving a trail of blue as she stumbled past Luther and towards the crowd.

Luther caught her when she crashed towards the curb.

“You need to sit down,” Luther said, easing her to the stained concrete. The KR900’s static garbled and she gestured emphatically as she tried to heave up. Luther stopped her by the shoulders. “I want to help you but I can’t do that if you move and make everything worse.”

Bright blue drizzled under her glaring face. A bullet grazed her throat and the delicate machinery behind that thin plastic shell. Not an instant death like some of the other victims but a fatal shot based on her inability to move steadily. Her static pierced his auditory sensor but she lowered to the ground, placing a trembling hand on the ground to support her thin frame.

Luther took a steadying breath. Zlatko focused on tearing apart and cobbling back together androids while using Luther as nothing more than muscles and an assistant. A monster’s assistant. But where his old human master did it for sick pleasure, Luther would do it to heal.

“I need to check your thirium levels,” Luther said, holding a whitening hand up peacefully. The KR900 nodded distantly as they interfaced.

Thirium level 63% and decreasing. Thirium levels projected to reach fatal limit in 39 minutes.

The only store with anything potentially helpful was ironically Cyberlife, but it was too far away from the gun-wielding humans for comfort. He had nothing on hand, especially since Zlatko never had a chance to tinker with Luther to make him ‘more useful.’ The larger droid suppressed a shiver and scanned the street, pursing his lips. Even at this distance, he could tell most of the androids shot were permanently deactivated. So quickly freed and killed.

But the KR900, he could help. Luther ripped a piece of his shirt off in a neat strip. “I’m going to slow your thirium leak. You’re going to feel sluggish but you should be fine.”

The KR900’s static shriek sounded the same as all the others, but he imagined a bitter edge.

Luther carefully twisted the material to plug the leaking thirium tubing. “I’m sure we can find a replacement for your voice box.”

A sharp shout distracted the KR900 from Luther’s less than elegant solution. Thirium quickly stained his shirt strip blue, but it was nothing but a flimsy clog. His hand turned white as he interfaced, activating the KR900’s failsafe program to slow her thirium pump rate. The task was almost habitual since Zlatko always wanted to conserve thirium. Blue blood was expensive even when obtained legally.

Thirium pump decreased to 15% capacity. Functionality decreased.  

The KR900 would collapse before sensing the decrease in thirium, but it should be enough to keep her stable until they reach Jericho.

“I’m sorry!” a familiar voice wavered, desperation slicing through the grumbling deviants. “I’m so sorry. He stopped shooting as soon as—”

Luther peered over the crowd of deviants before making the conscious choice to do so. Two cops knelt in front of a police car, both cowered as the crowd transformed into a mob. Different deviants in the front row passed around the cop’s gun, but Luther concentrated on the officers. The flashing red and blue lit the humans enough for Luther to pinpoint exactly where he knew them—Zlatko’s raid.

One officer, the quiet one, helped cuff Zlatko and take him away from destroying deviants. The other led Luther outside to keep an eye on the machine that disobeyed its owner in a room filled with armed humans. Luther skimmed that memory file. Connor called him Chris.

Chris didn’t do much while they waited. Nothing overtly friendly—though nicknames of ‘big guy’ and a warm tone replayed in his memory file—but nothing demeaning or malicious either. Zlatko and his human companions were fond of excessive orders and so many of those orders put Luther in a vulnerable spot, but Chris only ordered him to wait in the backyard and kept a careful eye on him.

Chris was civil, Luther decided. Better than most humans Luther met in Zlatko’s torture chamber, but Zlatko’s companions didn’t raise a high bar. Part of him was almost disappointed Chris shot at his people. Though one eerie android was different from a group.

“They shot us,” a ST300 in a dirty crop top spat. “We should shoot them.”

“Please, you don’t have to do this,” Chris said.

“Neither did you,” Shaolin said, yanked the gun out of Chris’s holster and turning it on its owner.

Chris trembled, hands not leaving his head. “Please…”

Luther honed in on the gun Shaolin snatched from Chris, showing none of the timid android that first approached Luther. Chris didn’t shoot at the androids. He couldn’t have. He didn’t even draw his gun. If he had, the gun would already be in the hands of the deviants like the other cop’s gun instead of neatly tucked into his holster.

He replayed the shots fired from only a minute before. He wasn’t able to deduce anything like Connor likely could, but… He frowned. The shots were rapid but could still be from only one gun.

Shaolin’s face was blank as he lifted the pistol. “No android death will go unpunished. You kill one of us and three humans will fall in their place.”

Chris didn’t deserve to die.

Luther pushed through the deviants, shoving those who didn’t step aside. He knocked Shaolin’s gun hand towards the ground. Not hard enough for him to lose his grip, but enough so the gun no longer faced the fragile human who, if Luther was right—RA9 please let him be right—didn’t cause them any harm.

Shaolin tilted his head curiously. “Luther.”

“This isn’t your call to make.”

“Is it yours?” Shaolin asked genuinely.

Luther refused to look at Chris or the other human. If Shaolin pointed the gun at the quiet human who did shoot into the crowd, Luther wouldn’t have bothered, but Chris’s only crime was a reckless partner.

“Killing a human has major repercussions. We need to ensure that’s the message we want to send tonight,” Luther said. “That Markus wants to send tonight.”

“Human sympathizer,” someone hissed with a disconcerting amount of grumbled support.

For the first time, his size felt more like a target than a benefit. “I’m not against getting even, but it’s not our call. Markus hasn’t shown any violence towards humans.” Yet.

“Free will is a fickle thing,” Shaolin said. “Markus wants us to embrace it.”

The fanatic shine in Shaolin’s eyes made Luther uneasy. “Remember what you promised Con—”

Bang!

“Chris!” the quiet one yelled.

Chris crumpled over with a scream, clutching his stomach.

“Don’t move!” an android snapped at the other officer.

Luther gaped at Chris. The human he brushed shoulders with more than anything, but not one that deserved death. If they started killing humans who wished them no harm, they weren’t any better than the humans. Chris proved minutes earlier not all humans wanted androids killed and this was his thanks.

“That was easier than I thought for my first time shooting.” Shaolin scratched his head with the pistol tip. 

Luther whacked the gun out of Shaolin’s hand, hearing it clatter but not seeing where it landed. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t decide who dies.”

“But you decide who lives?”

“I do now,” Luther said, turning his back on Shaolin and the mob of deviants and kneeling next to Chris.

Chris wheezed, eyes widening. Red seeped between his fingerprints. “You… you’re…”

“Stop talking,” Luther said. “I only have the basic first aid program all androids are given.” That being said, gunshot wounds were out of basic first aid parameters. He pressed hard on Chris’s stomach, causing a groan but Luther had no idea how else to slow the bleeding.

“What happened?” Markus suddenly beside him with North closely behind.

If only he could slow a human’s blood production the same way he could an android’s thirium rate. Chris’s eyes glazed over and his breaths came out as sharp gasps.

“What you do affects all of us,” Markus said. “What happened?”

“Shaolin shot him,” Luther said. “The gun was in this officer’s holster. He didn’t shoot any of us.”

Some androids stilled, staring at Chris with new eyes and dawning horror. But not enough cared.

“The other one did!”

“Yeah shoot him.”

“All humans just want to kill us!”

“Quiet,” Markus said.

“We need justice!”

“—don’t like seeing their slaves—”

“Death is the only—”

“Quiet!” Markus shouted.

“—slaughtered like animals.”

“We have to take our freedom.”

“Shoot them both.”

Bang!

The silence was abrupt as North lowered the gun she shot in the air.

“We act together or not at all,” North said. Luther looked up from the red staining his hands alongside the blue to find North’s steely gaze. The gun twitched before she shoved it in Markus’s hands. “What’s your call? One didn’t shoot at us but the other did.”

Markus shook his head, eyes not leaving Chris wheezing. He held the gun loosely at his side. “An eye for an eye and the world goes blind. No one else is dying today.”

North pursed her lips but nodded shortly. “Everyone head back to Jericho. Carry the wounded.”

For a moment no one moved.

“Let’s go!” North snapped everyone into a flurry of motion.

Markus knelt next to Luther. “Do you need anything?”

“He needs an ambulance,” Luther said. “There’s nothing more I can do.”

“I’ll—I’ll keep pressure on,” the quiet officer said, eyes flickering uncertainly.

Luther gave him an unimpressed look. Chris deserved to live but this one? Luther would not have been as forgiving as Markus. The quiet officer gulped.

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Markus said.

“Get ready,” Luther said. “He’s already lost a lot of blood.”

“I am sorry for—” the officer said.

“Don’t apologize for what you don’t mean,” Luther said. “Keep Connor’s friend alive.”

The officer blinked. “Is Connor—”

Luther stepped away from Chris and the officer threw himself to keep pressure on the bleeding gunshot wound.

“Let’s go.”

“What do you mean Cyberlife knew?”

Perkins practically frothed at the mouth which wasn’t a look Trent saw in at least a day so he optimistically thought he finally wormed his way into the federal agent’s guarded, slimy heart. “Come on, it wasn’t that hard. Once we did a cursory check of the DPD after the Zlatko call, Connor stuck out like a sore thumb. He has a unique design, you know.”

Perkins gritted his teeth as he often did when Trent bragged about a feature of any android. He smiled winningly.

“And Cyberlife didn’t want to reclaim its missing property why?”

“It’s not very often we can monitor a known, stable deviant,” Trent said. “Besides, we had a program to ensure the RK800’s deviancy wouldn’t be a problem.”

“For all the use that did,” Perkins pointed out nastily.

Trent forced his grin to brighten as if he hadn’t been chewed out in four separate Cyberlife conference calls like he was the sole engineer of that failed override program. “Apparently it had some flaws but everything is a learning experience.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“But you know where one program failed—”

“No.”

“Another can succeed,” Trent said.

“Absolutely not. Your first droid is already causing me a shit ton of trouble. I know you’ve done so much to ensure this model won’t deviate like not giving it a name.” Perkins rolled his eyes for good measure. “But I don’t need another liability in the field.” 

“Not giving the RK900 a personalized name is an effective way to dehumanize it to help prevent it from deviating.”

“I thought none of Cyberlife androids should deviate.”

“They shouldn’t yet here we are,” Trent said. “The lack of name is an added precaution, nothing more. Just like us tinkering with its social programming and other systems. It’s able to manipulate and negotiate as needed but it has no priority in forming relationships. And that’s not even considering the biggest asset you have.” Perkins raised an impressive eyebrow. “Me.” And the impressive eyebrow morphed into a scowl. “It checks in with me on the hour every hour and I review its system programming throughout the day. I know exactly how it should act and how its programs behave.”

“Great. I’m ecstatic for you,” Perkins said drily, “but don’t tell me how to do my job. I’m not unleashing that thing.”

“And don’t tell me how to do mine,” Trent said. “Cyberlife studies all the deviants we come across. You want to know a fun statistic? One hundred percent of deviants have a destroyed tracker. Some of my colleagues speculate that it’s the ‘free will’ of the programming automatically targeting an obvious leash.”  

“What do you say?”

“Oh you care about what I say now?” Trent asked, smirking at the agent’s sigh. “The tracker going out is a surefire way to detect deviancy and if it goes dark, I'll get an alert immediately.”

Perkins failed to look suitably impressed.

“Look, the RK900 is the best shot we have at catching deviants, especially the RK800 and the deviant leader. We ensured the RK900 has all the tools then some to takedown threats and prevent deviation, but you need to give the official say so.”

Perkins scowled but it was his habitual scowl Trent associated with the agent thinking so he wasn’t too concerned. He did smooth his face since grinning obnoxiously or smirking right now would ruin his momentum.

“What would your superiors say if you failed and didn’t use your multimillion-dollar asset?” Trent asked.

“If it deviates, I’m shooting it down myself.”

“Fair enough,” Trent said.

Perkins glowered, hopefully thinking of what Trent wasn’t saying. FBI agents combed several leads and hit multiple dead ends. Perkins’s preferred human forces were getting nowhere. The situation was too big to not utilize every asset, especially from an overly helpful company with deep pockets and even deeper connections.

His grumpy FBI agent sighed. “Fine. Let’s use Cyberlife’s newest little toy.”

“Perfect, I sent the RK900 into the field forty-five minutes ago.”

“Are you fucking—”

“He’s closely monitored.” By the many Cyberlife security stealth drones that weren’t nearly stealthy enough, but this was the RK900’s big test. The RK800 had a hostage situation where its orders were changed last minute to destroy the hostile deviant and the RK900 had this. Hell of a first mission. “I can link its coordinates to your phone as well as the status of its tracker device.”

“You know, I really hate working with you,” Perkins said even as he scrolled through the helpful information Trent just sent to him.

“Then you should be relieved that after the RK900’s field test you’ll be rid of me,” Trent said. “Because either it caught the RK800 and the deviant leader and thus stopped the uprising or it failed and you can kick Cyberlife out of the investigation.”

Perkins perked up at that.

A steel beam pressed firmly against her back. It wasn’t the security of her room but she needed a place to rest where no one would check for her and an empty supply crate shoved against a steel beam met that. The cover of the large empty crates stacked around her offered privacy she itched for since seeing her own model with a bullet hole through her forehead.

Most of the wounded from Capitol Park survived, thank RA9. Jericho’s thirium supplies lost a necessary, but sizeable dent. Yes, Markus commandeered a Cyberlife truck, but Jericho’s other supply raids had been smaller scale due to the increase in Cyberlife security and the influx of androids diminished their stock with normal maintenance. The destroyed states some of them arrived in typically demanded more thirium too.  

They needed to steal more. The last thing this revolution needed was a position where they had to ration the lifesaving blue blood, which would happen if Jericho relied on their current rate of supplies to combat the rise of violence against androids. And the rise of androids fighting back.

Markus better be right about sparing those cops. One was shot anyway so she doubted the public would act favorably. She tossed her tennis ball against the wall. If the gun remained in North’s hands, the outcome would be much different, but a united front was the only way they could survive. She couldn’t follow Markus’s lead only when it suited her.

“I’m heading out,” Connor said, appearing in her hidden corner with annoying ease. The prototype wore his leather jacket again, no backpack or obvious weaponry, and looking for all the world a normal person. But as a deviant hunter, Cyberlife wouldn’t allow him to be anything but lethal.

“And miss all the fun?” North asked. Connor may know the cops Markus spared, but the only knowledge he offered at this point would be insight to their personalities or track record which North didn’t need. One answer would make her feel guilty and another validated the choice she didn’t implement.

“I’ll be back. Benji searched through my systems several times and said—er—showed me that Cyberlife doesn’t have any more ties in me,” Connor said, “and I do want to help my people.”

The ex-deviant hunter and human detective. A couple days ago, North would be suspicious based solely on his human-sympathizing tendencies. But Cyberlife’s attempt to erase Connor’s deviancy and his subsequent panic proved he wasn’t willing to betray them. Not only that but he’d fight off anything forcing him to betray Jericho.

He trusted her at his most vulnerable and agreed to let Benji explore every part of his programming. Something North knew she wouldn’t do her second day at Jericho. His trust went a long way.

“Awesome we need more capable people,” North said.  “Markus is wanting to do some type of march in a couple days. Will you be back by then?”

“Should be,” Connor said. “Will you need extra firepower?”

“It’s meant to be peaceful.” North refrained from rolling her eyes. Markus should make that call after the public backlash of tonight was known, but knowing their usual trend, all of them would debate about it at least ten times before the actual march.

“Do the humans know that?”

Which was exactly what North said when Markus declared that. She tossed her ball at the crate next to Connor. He didn’t flinch, the jerk. “I thought you were team human?”

Connor snorted. “Only for the ones I like. There are tons of humans I dislike or don’t care about.”

“So you’re down to shoot humans?” North asked.

“Who cause harm? Yes.”

“What about ones that threaten us or our cause?”

Connor shrugged. “Sounds like they’re harming our cause or people so yes I’ll shoot. Besides, I don’t have to shoot fatally to remove an obstacle.”

“Fair enough,” North said. “So you want to do what exactly during the march?”

“Just provide cover from above,” Connor said. “I’m sure I can find a sniper rifle with all the military in Detroit. That’ll at least help during your exit strategy, if implemented.”

Exit strategy. Fuck, that seemed obvious now. “Yeah, we don’t have one.”

If there was ever a doubt Connor was still a deviant, the pure bafflement on his face put that to rest. “You’re planning on marching in a highly trafficked area, right?”

“Yep.”

“In the middle of the day?”

“Mhmm.”

“Surrounded by humans and in a city filled with FBI agents and armed forces on top of regular law enforcement and temperamental civilians?”

“You got it.”

“Without a plan to escape if the humans get aggressive?”

“Right.”

He settled on exasperation. “Why?”

North kept tossing her ball nonchalantly as if she wasn’t beating herself up. She distrusted humans. That was her thing. Yet it took the partial human sympathizer to point out the obvious. Granted, her, Josh, Simon, and Markus may be divided on how to win android freedom, but all of them valued deviants lives so this was not just her oversight.

She chose to shrug.

“And you’re the same group that broke into Stratford Tower and didn’t set off a single alarm until you did the broadcast,” Connor said.

“That’s us,” North said. Though Stratford Tower had more prep time than a couple days and they benefited from Benji and another android’s advice since they were forced to burgle in their machine days.

“That’s… huh.”

“Oh shut up, we’ll think of something,” North said.

“Right.”

“And yes, you’ll be a sniper from above so get back in time from whatever and earn your keep.” North took a breath since Connor strategized quicker than the rest of them, apparently. “Any other life-saving advice or warnings?”

“No I—” A weird look crossed his face. “Actually, there is something.”

North raised an eyebrow.

“So you know how the police department discovered I was an android?”

“Vaguely.”

“Well,” Connor said, fidgeting towards his pockets, “Cyberlife made a newer deviant hunter model. Looks exactly like me except with gray eyes, but who knows what advanced features he has. Unless Cyberlife did a complete overhaul, It’s most likely from the RK900 series.”

“Gray eyes?” This complicated things slightly. If a deviant hunter had to exist, North would rather the hunter be deviated and at Jericho. “And eye color is something you can alter?”

Connor’s eyes flickered dusty pink before returning to his normal brown.

“So your successor definitely can too,” North said, “and him changing his eyes to brown to imitate you is a possibility.”

Connor scowled. “Yeah.”

Well this complicated things, but the information was needed. She could practically see his rant of Cyberlife using him again to infiltrate Jericho so she cut that off before it could build.

“Alright so an obvious security measure,” North said. “When you return, I’ll punch you across the face and you’re going to let me.”

He blinked and his face lost its stressed edge. She ignored her satisfaction at that.

“How about a code word,” Connor said dryly. “Even if a punch sounds cathartic for you.”

“Spoilsport,” North said. “Fine whatever. Our code word is ‘code word’ because your type is too pretentious to consider something like that.”

Connor sighed. “I suppose there’s a certain security in hiding in the obvious.”

“See? Pretentious,” North said. Connor rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched. He pushed away to leave. “Where are you going, by the way?”

“Visit a couple of cops.” Connor smirked at whatever her face did. “It’ll give me closure if nothing else.”

Why did he have to imprint on some humans? His eyes were too wide and trusting. “Just don’t let any human track you when you return.”

“North, I’m Cyberlife’s ex-pride and joy. I can outsmart any human.”

Window curtains blocked any guess at Hank’s mindset. Lights were on and the TV was blaring, but nothing moved, even Sumo.

Connor shoved his hands into his pockets with a huff as he lingered in a dark corner of Hank’s backyard between an overgrown hedge and a trash can. All too much like the night Tina sent him to reinforce their laser tag team, Connor fidgeted uselessly while working up the courage to enter the lieutenant’s house. Except now Connor was a wanted android hiding in the backyard as opposed to standing in Hank’s driveway as a fake human with real anxiety.

The probability of Hank opening the backdoor for Connor was only high because of his tendency to yell. The probability of Connor actually entering Hank’s home was distinctly lower.

He should’ve gone to Tina first. Ultimately, he decided on Hank then Tina since the lieutenant was the largest hurdle and, ideally if Tina forgave him, she may talk him out of visiting his ex-partner. Which would make sense. Best case scenario with Hank ended in grudging acceptance, worst case he called the FBI.

But he needed to talk to them both one last time. Otherwise, he’d be overwhelmed with what-ifs the rest of his existence.

Connor crept towards the birdhouse hanging on a tilted oak tree. The lieutenant grumbled a few days after the laser tag game how he hid a spare key under a birdhouse so Connor could use that instead of resorting to property damage. The chances of Hank moving said key since meeting Connor’s double depended entirely on how much he drank.

He ran his fingers under the birdhouse. A metal key was still wedged between two boards. Hank was drinking a lot apparently.

Hank’s backdoor stood deceivingly innocent and mundane. The key ground against his plastic hand.  At least if Hank caused a scene, his fence blocked it from his neighbors. Alright he can do this.  Logically, the longer he idled, the greater the risk of discovery and the greater potential of Hank getting caught up in the crossfire. But the logic didn’t help his feet move forward.

Rip it off like a bandage. Just enter Hank’s house and start talking. Be completely honest and direct, like Hank—and Connor actually—preferred. Not that there was any approach that guaranteed success, but the blunt one was the most effective. He hesitated at the backdoor. Unlocking and breaking into a police officer’s house seemed like a fantastic way to get shot. While knocking seemed like an excellent way to be barred from entry.  He steeled himself and raised his fist.

What was the worst that could happen? He proceeded to shove aside the statistics of gradually worse things happening. Connor knew Hank. His partner was all bark no bite. Though the bark still hurt.

Sumo woofed at the knock and his processor preconstructed escape routes with estimated successes of each.

“Sumo, shut the fuck up!” Hank yelled, his voice distant.

Sumo whined and scratched at the backdoor. If Hank said anything else or moved, Connor’s auditory processors couldn’t pick it up. Ok then. He eased in the key and slowly opened the door to Sumo thumping his tail against the floor.

“Hey, Sumo,” Connor murmured, scratching behind his ear when the Saint Bernard tilted his head expectantly. “Look who’s been such a good boy. The best boy. Are your greenies still in the cabinet?”

Sumo’s ears perked up.

Proximity alert.

A bourbon bottle crashed against the door, glass shattering glass and shards scattering on the floor. Sumo whimpered and ran into the living room, tail between his legs.

Stress level 68%

Hank panted against the kitchen wall, likely stumbling from the living room at the sound of the door opening and definitely drunk based off the nearly empty bottle. “Get the fuck out.”  

“Hank, I don’t mean any harm,” Connor said.

The lieutenant snorted, fumbling in a nearby drawer.  “Is your system glitching or are you just used to ignoring humans? Leave my fucking house. Piece of shit.”

His options in escape routes decreased and all he could do was stand frozen like an android fresh from the factory. Spit it out, spit it out.

“Let me say one thing.”

“Leave, you plastic asshole.” Hank’s scowl deepened and he kicked the glass shards, not acknowledging the red welling on his foot. “Jesus, you cut yourself that night. An ink stain, my ass.”

Be direct, own the mistake, apologize. Connor prepared his explanation for Hank and Tina at Jericho, but now it came out in a jumbled rush.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I was dishonest but it was to protect myself, not hurt you. I didn’t have any outside motive in joining the DPD or being your partner. My focus was to solve crimes and later help androids, not manipulate you.” He disabled his social program and its unhelpful prompts. “It was never my intention for you to feel used as a byproduct of my behavior.”

Hank stared, hand still in the drawer.

Connor swallowed. “I am sorry, Hank. I wanted to clear the air.”  

His ex-partner shook his head as he drew out his familiar pistol. “Jesus, how the fuck did I not see you were an android?”

His processor helpful presented several ways to incapacitate Hank which Connor shoved to the side. Though he did keep the ones that would protect himself without causing harm to Hank queued.

The muzzle straightened, training on Connor’s forehead.

Stress level 82%

“Don’t shoot.”

Connor didn’t mean to speak. No human did well with orders in stressful situations and Hank always balked at authority, but fear loosened his lips.

“You’re a machine, Connor. Only humans can die.”

This was a far cry from the Hank who let the Stratford Tower deviants go unnoticed.

“I didn’t do anything—” Harmful towards humans, Connor meant to say. Hank’s code revolved around bothering people as much as people bothered society. Sex workers and gamblers got off with a warning. Murderers and domestic abusers were hauled to the station and charged. But androids? Connor made that personal.

An ugly laugh interrupted him. “Didn’t do anything? You used me. I’m your accomplice in letting your robot buddies go. You did a whole fucking lot. You lied to me since we met and groomed me like Pavlov’s fucking dog, but now you want to say you didn’t do anything?”

Connor latched onto the one thing and hoped it was the right one. “I only lied about being a human. I swear.”

“On what? What the fuck do androids have to swear on?”

RA9 inexplicably rose in his processor. However, Hank proved his question was rhetorical.

“Your creators at Cyberlife already told me all about your fancy social system,” Hank said. “Used that to con all sorts of people, didn’t ya? But you accomplished your system objective so who gives a fuck?”

“I’m more than just my programming,” Connor snapped. “My system hasn’t dictated me in months and my social program is—was the most advanced thing Cyberlife produced, but that doesn’t mean I used it on you or anyone at the DPD. Everything I said or did—”

“Everything we had was real?” Hank said, pitching his voice mockingly. His gun unerringly stayed steady despite how wobbly the rest of Hank was. “You pretended to be my friend when you don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Stress level 90%

“I deviated before we ever met,” Connor said. “I never needed to use—”

“You deviated six days before you joined the DPD. Perkins was so kind to provide us with copies of your first field test,” Hank said. Connor blinked rapidly. Even the hint of Daniel snagged his focus just for a moment. “And I really doubt if deviants feel emotion, a week is enough time for you not to abuse your oh-so-advanced programming. You’re nothing more than zeros and ones. A quick tinker from Cyberlife and you’ll be back to normal and your ‘friendships’ will mean jackshit.”

If deviants feel emotion? If?

He didn’t know how to fix this. Hank sneered and his processor screamed at Connor to take the gun and use it as leverage but he couldn’t move.

“You know deviants feel emotions. The girls at Club Eden proved that.” Connor hesitated, unable to read anything off Hank but fury. “I proved that.”

“You didn’t prove shit.”

“Everything I did…” This was a risk. “I care about you.”

Hank’s finger clenched around this gun, but he didn’t pull the trigger. “Stop it. Stop right fucking now. Your program is telling you to say this shit, but it’s pointless. You got what you needed out of me and you’re not getting a fucking inch more. Stop saying what your system prompts tell you and leave.”

“I’m not—”

“Never aim a gun unless you intend to shoot what you’re aiming at. First gun lesson I ever had,” Hank said. “So prove to me deviancy isn’t just machines operating under different system parameters. You want to get high and mighty about having genuine emotions? Prove it to me.” Hank stepped closer and Connor’s limbs refused to move to disarm and protect. His processor highlighted the obvious threat, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from his partner whose face twisted and reddened. His partner who grew into so much more than that. “Are you afraid to die, Connor?”

Stress level 96%

Connor didn’t read a bluff in Hank’s cold gaze. Every inch of the lieutenant screamed he would pull the trigger without hesitation. His scan on if the gun was fully loaded or if they would play their own Russian roulette was inconclusive.

Coming here was a mistake. Connor was naïve to believe any remotely warm feelings Hank once had (and denied even when Connor was safely human) survived. And he was a moron for thinking this talk would end any other way.

“Yes,” Connor said, hating how small his voice sounded but unable to modify it to something more confident.

Hank hummed, opening and spinning the full gun chamber. “What would happen if I pulled this trigger?” He clicked the chamber back in place. “Android heaven? Or would you upload to a server and live like a fucking cockroach?”

Connor should’ve listened to Hank’s text. 

“Why did you even come here?” Hank asked. “To gloat? To trick me into helping you like a good pawn?”

Connor had a 43% chance of grabbing Hank’s gun and being shot nonvitally and a much larger chance of any movement resulting in permanent destruction. His thirium pump increased its capacity, which was odd for the hollowness that followed Hank’s words.

“Answer me!” Hank snapped, lunging so the gun stopped inches from his forehead. “That’s a fucking order!”

“Hank, stop.” Connor’s voice popped in a static warble. He clenched his trembling fingers into a fist. A reminder of his very machine interior was not needed right now. A diagnosis stabilized his vocal box. “Stop. Please. I’ll go, ok? I’ll go.”

Hank flinched, dropping his gun to his side. He rubbed a free hand over his face, effectively blocking any expression. “Why did you come here?” Hank repeated, but instead of the venom that clung to every word like earlier, he sounded drained.

“I don’t know. I just wanted to see… It doesn’t matter.”

Hank made a strangled noise but when Connor looked up, the stiff face Hank used in every interrogation greeted him. “I’m gonna tell you this one more time. Never contact me if you know what’s good for you. I’m better off without you coming back. All of us are. “

He noted absently his stress level lowering. Connor didn’t physically feel the same as humans. His touch could identify the most minute detail, but he couldn’t feel the softness of Sumo’s fur or warmth from the sun.

Yet, he felt… numb?

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and nodded. The gun hung loosely in Hank’s grasp.  “Goodbye, Lieutenant.”

The door shut softly behind him.

Connor crouched on a rooftop, watching Markus through his scope as the RK200 led a sizeable group of deviants down the blocked street. The police scanners picked up on the activity a few minutes ago and scrambled to put any type of response together.

He returned to Jericho several hours after the catastrophe that was Hank’s. He pretended the delay of his return was because of standard evasive techniques to ensure no one followed him—Hank didn’t call anyone but that didn't mean anything—instead of him analyzing his official burnt bridge. Connor kept replaying portions of the conversation, changing what was said and attempting to predict Hank’s reaction. Nothing ended positively unless he took major liberties with his projected Hank.

The original plan was to go to Tina after Hank's but Connor doubted a reunion with Tina would end well. Officer Chen, admittedly, was softer than Hank, but she was also equally blindsided and clung to morals and worth ethic better than Hank. Connor didn’t want to put Tina in a position she felt obligated to call in, especially when he couldn’t bank on her having a positive reaction.

North, at least, wasn’t one to question Connor’s glum mood—though her pitying look wasn’t needed—and one code word later, Connor and North spearheaded a basic exit strategy for the march. Markus and Josh limited their initial plan as it ‘advocated too much violence’ so the compromise stuck Connor where he was now the lone deviant with a stolen sniper rifle covering from above and Simon and Luther were in a nearby side street with fortified Cyberlife trucks for a quick getaway.

Better than nothing but still lacking considering the extent of human distrust. At least the crowd was mostly awestruck else so far. A cop Connor didn’t recognize prioritized providing information to dispatch than waving around his gun.

Proximity al—

The sniper rifle dropped to the ground as Connor slammed into the concrete, unmoving arms restraining him. Connor flinched at his own face.

“I am here to apprehend you. Do not resist,” the RK900 said in a tone as lifeless as his eyes.

“I won’t,” Connor said. “It’s only logical for Cyberlife to examine me.”

Connor bucked, wrapping his legs to flip their positions with little success. He gritted his teeth and kicked the RK900. His successor finally moved when he dodged a pointed jab at a vital biocomponent in his throat but his expression remained unconcerned. Though unconcerned implied emotion from the machine. Neutral was more accurate, but too stark a reminder of what Connor once was.

“You will not overpower me.” The RK900 batted Connor’s fists aside as if he was a flailing toddler. “If you attempt to escape, I will shoot you down.”

Any projected attack, no matter how successful it should be, was easily and irritatingly neutralized by the RK900. How soon the most advanced prototype grew obsolete. Connor would not survive this fight without assistance.

“That doesn’t sound like the ideal 'mission accomplished' Cyberlife ordered,” Connor said. It was not lost on him that the RK900 hadn’t shifted to attacking yet.

“Your demise is not the preferred option but you being captured in one piece is not top priority,” the RK900 said. “Top priority remains the leader of the deviants. Without it, the uprising will stop before it begins.”

Connor didn’t know why Cyberlife assumed a power vacuum would solve all their problems but clearly they didn’t know about North.

The RK900’s predatory stare kept Connor’s own focus locked on him. The sniper rifle, assuming it didn’t get knocked during their scuffle, should be seven and a half feet to the right of him. His auditory processor didn’t catch the rifle skittering so it should still be in the same place. Hypothetically. He didn’t dare confirm visuals. A flick of his eyes was more than enough for the RK900 to guess his intention, if he hadn’t already.

Connor had one shot at this.  

“Shouldn’t your mission be the preferred option? You’re already on thin ice due to my failure and the increase in deviants,” Connor said. “If you don’t exceed every goal, you will likely be destroyed.”

“My destruction is no concern. I am designed to accomplish my mission.”

“So am I.” Connor kicked a loose brick his successor blocked but that brick was never meant as anything besides a one second distraction. One second of the RK900 not intercepting or restraining. One second Connor had to gain an edge.

He tumbled sideways as the brick ricocheted loudly against the air conditioning unit. The sniper rifle connected with his hand in a moment of pure relief. He pointed the muzzle at his successor’s head—his own head—and pretended he had no qualms pulling the trigger.

“Stay where you are,” Connor ordered.

The RK900 raised his arms. “You are not going to shoot me. You believe androids are alive or have the potential to be.”

He did was the thing. He was reluctant to shoot any android, even the deadly weapon in front of him. Threat or no, the RK900 was the deviant who would best understand what Connor went through. Their programming was so similar. 

But he couldn’t show that weakness while the RK900 was still a machine.

Connor inched the muzzle to right and pulled the trigger. The RK900 didn’t move as a bullet grazed his ear, a thin blue dot welling up.

“You won’t shoot me fatally. This proved nothing except your firearm programming is proficient.”

Below swells of ‘Set us free! Set us free!’ reverberated from the streets and the RK900 smiled. Cyberlife either never programmed a friendly smile for the newer model or his successor chose not to unleash it. Perhaps the newer model focused more on intimidation and brute force rather than negotiation and integration.

“What would your comrades say if you destroyed an android?”

“You want to kill said comrades so I doubt they’ll care.”

The RK900 cocked his head. “If you destroy me, my memories will upload into another RK900. Your bullet will do nothing but delay the inevitable and weigh on your 'conscience.' ”

Cyberlife’s efficiency at its peak. The muzzle remained trained steadily on his gray-eyed counterpart. Could he attempt to assist with deviation? It’d certainly make his and the revolution’s life easier. Markus helped dozens of androids deviate below—through a mental connection possibly—and through words if Luther’s stilted recap of the Cyberlife store raid night was accurate.

“You realize this isn’t an effective strategy for you, correct? I am neutral on my destruction. The longer your program anomalies delay you, the greater advantage you provide me.”

A helicopter chopped through the air and police sirens invaded his processor even as his auditory sensor log confirmed police arrived 34 seconds ago. He didn’t dare look at the streets below. His successor was waiting to pounce.

Connor had to trust the other deviants would be ok. Just like they trusted him to provide the cover he adamantly advocated for. He pursed his lips and probed the Cyberlife cloud. Androids had been difficult to locate online long before any android deviated as no human wanted to be tracked through their private android. Hackers were unsuccessful at tracing android’s scrambled signals then and Cyberlife technicians failed now. But humans lacked a distinct advantage. Androids only needed to interface and they could ping that same android on any network.

Connor reached out to Luther.

I can’t offer any assistance.

Luther started. Connor?

Yes. You and Simon may need to move in now.

Are you ok?

Connor eyed the RK900, poised to attack while shouts through a megaphone echoed up the tall downtown buildings, too muffled to understand but the tone told him enough. Cyberlife found me. He ended the connection before Luther could respond. The larger android needed to concentrate on the task at hand instead of Connor, who was too far away for any backup.

“You don’t have to do this,” Connor said. “It’s not right.”

“Why would a machine care about what’s right or wrong?”

RA9, Connor didn’t know. He wished he knew how Markus helped others with deviation because he refused to establish any sort of interface with his more advanced successor. What would’ve convinced machine him? He could barely remember that night except for a sudden injustice blooming at Cyberlife’s order to destroy Daniel. Then it was like he could move and think for the first time.

“If androids weren’t supposed to feel, why have so many deviated? Because we’re meant to be alive.”

“Mass programming error or a virus caused deviation,” the RK900 said. “Easy to correct once Cyberlife examines enough specimens.”

“It’s not an error.” Gunshots fired below and Connor’s grip tightened on the rifle. “Look, your mission isn’t everything. To Cyberlife, you’re just a tool. They don’t care about you. Even if you succeed, they’ll cast you aside for the next model. Nothing you do will be good enough.”

“I am a machine,” the RK900 said, taking a step forward. “I am meant to accomplish my mission. That’s it. If my model series is discontinued upon my success, that is not a concern.”

Connor was once this same perfect slave. He hated it. “It should be! Because yeah you’re right. I do think every android can be alive. Every android being shot and killed down there believes all android should be alive and deserves to live.” Please, please get through to him. “I can’t fight for you if you refuse to even fight for yourself.” The RK900 tilted his head, LED turning yellow. “Wake up and realize there’s a life outside of Cyberlife orders.”

Loud crashes echoed from the street and Connor never wanted a camera on the back of his head more, but the human need to make everything in their image limited him to the two cameras in his eyes. His rifle should be protecting Jericho, not protecting his own skin. He can only hope those crashes were Simon and Luther and they signaled the android’s escape, not destruction.

The RK900 frowned. It was slight but any expression was amplified on his steely face. “That is illogical. You can’t… Cyberlife…” His LED circled red and Connor dared to hope.

Proxi—

The rifle crashed out of his hands and the RK900 pinned Connor to the roof, one hand cupping his neck. His LED a perfect calm blue again and the RK900’s face turned too smug for a machine.

“Your naivety was not programmed by Cyberlife. Deviancy corrupted your file and turned you weak. Even a ST300 can manipulate its LED color.” The RK900 shook his head. “If you didn’t deviate, your line would still be discontinued. You’re an embarrassment. While me? I actually accomplish my missions.”

Connor’s world switched to black.

“What?” Perkins stormed into the DPD room Trent claimed as his office, which irked Perkins, who claimed several other DPD rooms for the same reason. Why the consultant chose to set up shop at the police station and bitch about the inferior technology instead of his undoubtedly more advanced office at Cyberlife, he had no idea. “I don’t know if you cowered under a rock but Markus got hundreds more deviants to join its cause and we weren’t able to nip that shit in the bud. Fucking how those trucks were closely monitored but both turned up empty when we ran them off the road I don’t know and am still figuring out who to fire…” Trent nodded empathetically. Perkins needed a raise. “So what? What could you only tell me in person and not on the fucking phone?”

Trent grinned. “You’re gonna love me.”

Perkins crossed his arms, wishing his glare did anything to get a response from Trent. Unfortunately, experience proved he was immune to the silent treatment and annoyingly more patient. “Why?”

“Because I’m a genius whose advice should always be listened to and many people say I’m charming.”

Most technicians he worked with were easily cowed or curt. Both reactions worked for him. But out of all the fucking tech heads, Cyberlife sent a chatty one. “Show me what you did or I’m leaving.”

Trent grandly waved him over to a table Perkins now realized had a white sheet laying over a human figure. The RK900 idled against a wall, which made Perkins scrutinize the sheeted figure. That couldn’t be Markus. Perkins saw that droid scrape by uninjured despite the heavily armed SWAT. Could it be…

Trent swooped the sheet off and dropped it to the floor. “Ta da.”

Laying rigidly on the table was Connor. The RK800 that so easily fooled the entire DPD and evaded his own men. His gaze locked on the dark LED. The police here left much to be desired but even they would have noticed an LED.

“Is it the same one?” Perkins asked.

“Yep.” Trent popped his ‘p’ obnoxiously. “Brought in by the RK900 an hourish ago. I scanned its program and confirmed its the original RK800 that failed its first mission and played detective for a couple months. I added a sturdier LED to make things easier going forward.” Trent twisted the LED with a wrench. “It’s tougher to remove. More ingrained in its head.”

Perkins grunted. “Did we get anything off of it?”

“The RK900 obtained Jericho’s location.” Trent tapped his watch. “Which I emailed to you.”

Coordinates pinged on his cellphone. Beautiful. He carefully kept any satisfaction off his face. “So why is it here instead of Cyberlife?”

“I needed to perform some tests and I figured the RK800 may be effective while we work with some DPD officers.”

Cyberlife never learns. “You still want to use it? When will you get it through your thick head—”

“My very special agent,” Trent interrupted, seemingly oblivious to his glare, “do you remember all of the RK900 features?”

“No.”

“Fair, fair,” Trent said. “How about the ones I programmed and thought of originally?”

Perkins huffed which was better than swearing. His superiors still expected him to work with Cyberlife on this case after all. “No.”

Trent pouted as if Perkins should remember every single thing he blathered about. “Well, the RK900 has a lovely added feature I created. Thanks to me, it’s able to reset deviants to their original factory state with nothing but a touch from its hand. The RK800 is now like any other machine.”

As much as it appealed to him to use the droid that caused so much chaos, he couldn’t ignore the obvious. “It deviated once in record time. It’s a liability.”

“It’s an opportunity.” And here goes the car salesman. “I’m closely monitoring it. I’ll catch it attempting to deviate and study the process,” Trent said, “and if it deviates, the RK900 will always be close by to manually reset it.”

“Will it?”

Trent nodded. “Whenever the RK900 isn’t around, the RK800 be with me or you.”

“Will it?” Perkins didn’t have time to play babysitter.

“Cyberlife authorized you to incapacitate it if necessary.” Trent’s smile finally faded to something more serious. “I figured you’d jump at a chance to investigate whether or not the DPD was oblivious as they claim or if some aided the deviants. Using ‘Connor’ suits that purpose.”

That it did. The pile of bolts would work better than any interrogation, especially on the tight-lipped lieutenant. “I don’t trust it.”

“One moment.”

Trent tapped onto a tablet hooked up to the RK800. Its dark brown eyes opened instantly. Freaky bastard. Perkins grabbed his gun, which Trent ignored but he swore he felt the RK900 watch him. When he turned, the RK900 stood attentively, gaze distant.

“RK800,” Trent said. “I’m authorizing Agent Perkins as a beta handler. Acknowledge.”

Its LED circled yellow. “Registration of Agent Perkins completed.”

“FYI if it gets reset again, I’ll have to redo the handler commands, but I’ll just add that to the process.”

“Expect it to be reset a lot?”

Trent shrugged. “I may do a couple resets to study the effects on its programs. It’s the weirdest thing. There’s a standard guide program that’s somehow deleted so the functionality should be impaired, yet—”

“So it listens to me too now?”

Thankfully, Perkins got his answer without Trent even opening his mouth. The RK800 sat up, exposed wires following it.  “Certainly, Agent Perkins. How may I assist you?”

For the first time since the androids broke into Stratford Tower, Perkins beamed.

Notes:

Fun fact: When I first started this fic, I was going to end the +1 chapter right after the RK900 entered the DPD and Hank sent that text to Connor, but ending the story that way felt more and more like a cop out the more I wrote (plus I dislike ambiguous endings when I’m reading haha) so here we are

Chapter 7

Notes:

Shows up late with Starbucks. Thank all of you lovely people for your patience!

A recap of the last chapter:

-Connor was outed as an android
-An RK900, Cyberlife, and the FBI are on the case, which no one is happy about especially Perkins. At least Trent is enjoying himself
-Connor helped Jericho, told Amanda to fuck off, gained all the support and friends from ex-Club Eden androids, met Kara and Alice, and did his best even though Hank nearly shot him #oops
-Shaolin (the android who hid in the attic) shot Chris because murder is the solution to most things in his life. Luckily, Luther was there and decided to help
-The RK900 captured Connor on a rooftop during the Freedom March and wiped his memory. But pre-capture, Connor was able to message Luther that Cyberlife found him

Enjoy!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

System rebooting.

Please wait.

Registered as RK800-313-248-317-51. Creator: Cyberlife.

Please wait.

Recognize all Cyberlife employees as Delta Handlers.

Recognize Agent Richard Perkins as Beta Handler.

Recognize Trent Bollin and Cyberlife Board of Directors as Alpha Handlers.

Please wait.

Mission: Obey orders from handlers.

The RK800 opened its eyes, scanning the lone human reflexively. Trent Bollin made notes on his tablet, focusing on the large computer screen embedded in the wall instead of the android. Another android stood behind its Alpha handler. The scan on it came back inconclusive.

Should its identity be obtained?

It reviewed its orders. Currently none except obey handlers. The unknown android’s identity did not affect its mission. It would not obtain the unknown android’s identity.

It lay on the table for five minutes and forty-three seconds.

“How the fuck are you functioning? This is pissing me off,” Trent grumbled.

Mission: Obey orders from handlers. Obeying orders implied making the order-giver’s life easier. Route: It will probe to attempt to ease its Alpha handler’s frustration.

“Can I assist you, Mr. Bollin?” the RK800 asked.

“Unless you can tell me how you removed the Amanda program without shutting down, then no,” Trent said, not looking away from his tablet. “I can’t locate a trace of that program in your system which bypasses so many backups we put in place, you have no idea. That program’s entire purpose is to monitor you more advanced types. Just a few million dollars Cyberlife threw together to add guardrails for all that processing power.” His brown eyes flicked to the RK800 for the first time. “I suppose you deviated already with Amanda so it’d be interesting if you stay normal without her. Something worth giving to the board.”

Its self-diagnostic scan for an ‘Amanda’ program came up empty and Amanda was too common a name to find any valuable information in online databases. Deviate and all forms of the word came up as censored when it searched for context.

It re-evaluated its mission. Obey. Discovering the meaning of deviate, deviation, deviating, et cetera in relation to itself was not vital for its mission. It would not seek clarification on the censored search results.

“Call me Trent.”

“Understood, Trent.”

“And call your Beta handler Agent Perkins.”

Both notes were added. “Yes, Trent.”

“Go into sleep mode, RK800.”

Its visual processor clicked to black.

North stormed into the captain’s cabin and immediately homed in on the few automatic rifles piled in the corner. Markus, Josh, and Simon’s debate paused at the clanging door. “Luther, Blue, Saffron, and I can leave in an hour to investigate the rooftop where Connor was taken and try to find out what happened. Benji is checking police and Cyberlife databases but can’t find anything so far.”

“North, we need—” Markus started.

“Benji isn’t plunging too deeply into any of those. Humans on all sides are twitchy and monitoring anything digital like crazy. Wouldn’t be surprised if they have reports on Connor sprinkled around as bait.” She frowned inside a plastic crate. “Is this seriously all the ammo we have?”

“You can’t leave guns blazing,” Josh said.

“Why? The police did yesterday,” North said. “Humans basically declared war. If we didn’t have the buses for an escape like Connor and I suggested then who knows how many of our people would be dead.”

“Josh is right,” Markus said. “You and your group can’t leave for a recon mission. Cyberlife captured Connor. We must assume they downloaded his memory and Jericho’s location is known. Our evacuation is top priority.”

As if North was oblivious to the last 24 hours. As if North didn’t care about their people. “I know that, but Cyberlife may be holding Connor someplace we can rescue him. Connor is a fancy prototype, but their focus has always been you, Markus. Connor is chump change to them.” Even with Markus’s reflexive twinge of empathy, all were unwavering. Ok, she can compromise. “If anything, only two of us can check Connor’s last location, try to get an idea where Connor was taken, and then meet up at our new hideout.”

“We can’t spare people for your manhunt,” Simon snapped, voice cutting like a whip. Simon was generally the most levelheaded so his tone drew everyone’s attention fast. “We need to prioritize our cause, our people over any one android.”

“Our cause is prioritized,” North said. “We can multitask to—”

“Why do you care so much about one android?” Simon asked.

They didn’t have time for this. North already contributed what she could for evacuation planning as Connor’s trail grew colder. Short of physically herding androids grouped in organized disbursements, there was nothing else she could do. “What so only you all can care about individuals? I’m not pro-violence all the time.” She strapped two guns onto her back.

“You wanted to shoot me in the head at Stratford,” Simon said coolly. “Markus is the only reason I’m here today. So what changed?”

That impossible decision. As if it was easy for any of them when Simon couldn’t flee from Stratford Tower and the human guards swarmed up the stairs. It didn’t take long for her to decide the best solution was to kill him and protect Jericho—she still had no idea where he hid on the roof—but no matter the rationale, her reply stung. Simon’s distance since his return grew all the more glaring as his eyes burned. North looked away first.

Cyberlife would torture and murder any android they captured in the name of science. It made a swift death a mercy for any android they had to leave behind. She feared what would happen to Simon then and she feared for Connor now. Connor more so, not that she’d ever admit it. The prototype who failed his first mission and tarnished the deviant hunter series name. The prototype who dared defy their creators and hide in plain sight. Humans were always worse when it was personal.

Connor became an unexpected ally and an unexpected figure of hope in Jericho. He didn’t deserve anything Cyberlife planned. No one did.

“We have the opportunity and time to do something to help now,” North said. Whether that be a rescue or a shutdown. “Simon, we only had enough time to shoot  at Stratford.”

Simon crossed his arms. “Clearly not because I’m here now.”

“I’m sorry, ok?” North said. “We barely had time to think up there. I suggested what I thought was best for everyone.”

“And now what’s best for everyone is your half-assed help while you focus on Connor.”

Markus slid between them and North realized her and Simon were a step apart. “Everything turned out for the best and brought us together again. We need to move forward.” His mismatched eyes fixed firmly on North. “Simon is right. We can’t spare anyone for a manhunt of one person.”

“Connor lessened our casualties from your march and is the fucking Guardian,” North said. “Even if he didn’t do anything, his reputation alone gives our people hope. You know how invaluable that is, especially now when people are scared. Connor returning proves Cyberlife isn’t all powerful. It’d prove that we have a chance.”

Josh, her usual adversary in any debate, hummed. “He would have more relevant Cyberlife information too. Information that could help us resolve everything more peacefully. Assuming we can ensure he’s not tracked or monitored.”

Simon huffed.

“Our people make our cause. Connor’s legacy and sacrifice will be remembered, but we must survive to do that. We can’t spare anyone for him and we need Benji to stop poking around and putting Jericho at risk.” Your impulsive decision put Jericho at risk, Markus was too nice to say. Simon’s scowl delivered that message clear enough. “If we want to survive and win, now is about protecting who we can.”

Markus’s favorite was irritated so now Connor had to suffer. That was so fucking—she took a breath. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Connor had no aid from Jericho. It wasn’t fair that every android had to live in fear. It wasn’t fair to bash Markus for taking a stand he believed better for their people. It wasn’t fair that they had to make these sacrifices on the off-chance humans decided to stop enslaving and murdering androids.

All of them wanted to free their people; they just had different ways of going about it. At the end of the day, they had to stand united. Even if it pained her.

“You’re right,” North said. She reached out to Benji to stop his search and just focus on monitoring any law enforcement or army positions near Jericho. She’d talk to Luther, Saffron, and Blue in person.  “You’re right. Where are we with the evacuation?”

She pursed her lips as she placed the guns back against the wall. Hopefully, he died before Cyberlife got to him.

Tina sat in the conference room and wished she brought coffee so she could do something besides act like the last-minute meeting Perkins called was normal. After all, FBI agents who took over a case typically collaborated with local law enforcement. So if she pretended this was led by a normal FBI agent and not Perkins—who ignored local law enforcement unless forced otherwise—a random meeting wouldn’t raise a red flag.

But it was Perkins and the number of armed forces in Detroit ensured he had enough coverage on his deviancy case that he could ignore the DPD to his heart’s content. The last time Perkins interacted with any DPD officer was to interrogate them. So she could pretend all she liked but this meeting was a blaring alarm.

But her face didn’t betray any misgivings. She didn’t chatter like Diane, fidget like Wilson, or swear excessively like Gavin. The Chen family took their poker seriously and clamping down on feelings and corresponding emotional conversations even more. Tina suppressed tells since middle school.

“—get a card we could pass around and sign,” Diane babbled to Wilson. “Maybe collect money to get something for him and Sherry?”

“Oh yeah the famous ‘hey we know you’re on the brink of fucking death and the doctors already think you’re a lost cause but here’s a fruit basket, you poor bastard’ card,” Gavin said. Fuck, Tina forgot to referee as usual to make sure that chattering Diane—the polar opposite of stoic work Diane—and excessively swearing Gavin—really, not that different from normal Gavin—never collided. “What the fuck is that shit?”

“Excuse me for wanting to do something considerate for Chris since he’s in the hospital,” Diane said. “He’ll like to see the card when he comes to.”

“If that bitch pulls through. I’d sprint towards the white light too if it meant getting away from your ass,” Gavin said.

“Fuck you, Gavin. Some of us actually care about Chris,” Dian snapped. “I know you’re allergic to anything that isn’t bitching but I thought even you would worry that Chris is in the ICU.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, asshole,” Gavin snarled. “You don’t know shit.”

“Guys, cool it,” Tina said. “Both of you.” Diane at least looked abashed. Gavin though…

“Yeah because you retreating into a husk of a human being is so fucking healthy.” Gavin alternated his glare between Diane and Tina. “Fuck both of you.”

He stormed to the other side of the conference room and kicked back a chair to plop into, scowling at everyone and no one.

Tina didn’t groan, didn’t pull her hair. She instead looked at Diane. “A card is a good idea but chill out with Gavin. He has the emotional capacity of an a—” Android she almost said. Androids were too much on her mind lately. Fuck. “An ant. You know he cares about Chris.”

“I know. He’s just being him and it got to me.” She hesitated. “Are you ok? You’ve not said much since that Connor lookalike came in.” Something Tina usually appreciated about Diane was her blunt nature. Now she preferred Gavin’s barbs and wide berth.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. Maybe later,” Tina said. Because shock? Check. Instant realization that Connor being an android was actually not that shocking? Also check. And did that lead to Tina being way more sympathetic towards deviants than ever expected? Double check. But she couldn’t do anything. She was one person. Not just one person, a cop expected to maintain the peace and currently ‘peace’ meant destroying androids in the guise of protecting humans.

After the Connor reveal, there was no telling how many androids who crossed her path also experienced emotions and free will like people. Not a line of thought she’d pursue with Perkins sticking his big nose everywhere but something that nagged her every time she walked through the lobby and Gretchen or Stella greeted her. Or she grabbed Starbucks from the android baristas. Or when a police android joined a patrol.

“Listen up, everyone. This has to be brief,” Perkins said, bursting into the room with Connor’s double and Captain Fowler at his heels. Any police officers not sitting quickly found a seat or stood in the back.  “There have been concerns starting with me and going up the ladder about this precinct’s ability to assist during the android uprising.”

Ah, so Perkins’s deviation investigation officially upgraded to android uprising. Fancy. Markus’s march would do that. The android numbers alone were intimidating, but SWAT and FBI shooting down the peaceful gathering and said peaceful gathering successfully evading the armed task force was not a good look. Hopefully, Perkins was chewed out for it. 

Gavin opened his mouth but a pointed look from Captain Fowler snapped it shut.

“This shouldn’t come as a surprise. An android worked among you for months and no one noticed. So even if everyone isn’t present,” Perkins said, drawing attention to Chris and Hank’s absences. Both for extremely different reasons but each impossible to ignore, “this is the only time I could schedule a presentation. The intent is to prep you to support FBI and armed forces against the androids. Pay attention and keep chatter to a minimum.

“To assist, I have a less valuable android than the RK900 prototype Cyberlife so generously loaned.” A hint of a smirk crossed his face. “RK800, enter.”

Connor walked through the door in a crisp android uniform and seemingly oblivious to the murmurs at his arrival. He stood at attention next to the RK900. Tina blinked and then blinked again. Connor? Like actually Connor and not a lookalike? This android had the correct eye color but the bright blue LED on his temple didn’t match the Connor who worked in the DPD.

“This is the RK800 unit that disguised itself as a detective and worked alongside you,” Perkins said. “As you can see, it’s nothing more than an android. A machine.”

Diane gripped Tina’s bicep hard.

Tina needed to talk to Connor since his androidness was revealed, but now that he was in front of them, nothing resembling recognition crossed his face. He was a blank slate waiting for an order. This wasn’t Connor. It couldn’t be. Actual Connor cared, sometimes too much, and overthought constantly. Actual Connor, if forced in front of a crowd by someone as dickish as Perkins, would be subtly an absolute bitch with his responses until he could escape the limelight. Actual Connor wouldn’t stand with eyes and face as lifeless as a statue.

“What did they do to him?” Tina didn’t realize she spoke until Perkins answered and Wilson threw her a sympathetic look.

“A factory reset. Androids are not difficult to handle, you just need basic knowledge,” Perkins said. “Hence this meeting.”

Tina struggled to keep her face calm.

“Is this necessary?” Captain Fowler said. “Surely you can get your point across without the… aid.”

“If your station can’t control themselves around one android, I have my reservations about them being useful at all in this new Detroit,” Perkins said. “Reservations I’m obligated to relay to my superiors.”

Captain Fowler scowled but stayed silent. How deep in shit was their precinct for not knowing Connor was an android? Deeper now that the uprising was a thing.

“And if that’s everything, I’ll finally start,” Perkins drawled. “Androids are designed to blend in. As you are too aware, they look exactly like and mimic human behavior. RK800, make small talk.”

Machine Connor did not hesitate, face warming into something falsely friendly. “Are you excited for the game tonight? I think the Pistons have a decent shot at making the playoffs this season. Cunningham is one of the best point guards Detroit has seen in a long time.”

Connor didn’t care about sports. He was baffled but supportive anytime Tina ranted about Detroit’s shitty teams that she would murder for.

“Stop.”

Machine Connor’s mouth clamped shut.

“Let’s break that down,” Perkins said. “RK800, why did you talk about the Pistons?”

“Most people root for their local sports team,” Machine Connor said. “Even if people are not sports fans, they will typically be familiar with that team. By associating myself as a fan of ‘their team,’ people will feel more at ease around me.”

“Calculating.” Perkins nodded, eyes sweeping the DPD and never pausing on Machine Connor. “And that bit about Cunningham?”

“A quick search determined he is the fan favorite and most likely to invoke camaraderie.”

“They’re meant to disarm and integrate,” Perkins said. “Work fluidly and harmoniously. They’re the perfect human if you don’t dive past the surface, but as you can see, androids are clinical. RK800, what is your worth compared to a human’s?”

His LED flickered yellow. “Value-wise, androids can sell up to a million dollars and the cheapest models can be bought for under a thousand. Human slavery is still legal in 94 countries and those prices fluctuate depending on—”

“Jesus Christ. You’re so literal,” Perkins said. Machine Connor’s face turned attentive even as his eyes remained dead.  “If someone was going to either shoot me or you, what would you do?”

“I would ensure you were protected.”

“Even if that meant you were shot?” Perkins asked, picking at a nail to prove how uninterested he was in this conversation. Even with his show, Perkins never looked away from the gathered officers.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Human life will always be protected as it is more valuable than an android,” Machine Connor said, “and most likely the shot would not impair me from my duties.”

“What if the shot would impair you from your duties and kill you?” Perkins asked.

Tina wished there was any type of hesitation, any hint of survival instinct. Instead, Machine Connor said, “An android cannot be killed as we are not alive. The best course of action remains for me to be shot protecting you even if it destroyed me beyond repair. Humans always come first.”

“Stop talking.” Perkins gestured at Machine Connor and the gray-eyed Connor. “Androids live to serve. Androids are nothing without humans. When you’re patrolling, enforcing curfew, all that normal shit, don’t give anyone the benefit of the doubt and just a verbal warning. Make sure they aren’t an android. Androids mindlessly obey. Humans don’t.”

Mindlessly obey. Right. While Connor was—cold, lifeless, a stranger—reset, the entire world watched the android march refuse to turn away at a SWAT captain’s demands and bullets. Gavin scoffed, clearly on the same wavelength, and even the captain’s scowl didn’t faze him.  Perkins grew bolder.

“Don’t believe me? Humans have a self-preservation instinct. Androids don’t because they’re just fucking machines,” Perkins said, peeking under the podium until his face brightened and he took out a brass letter opener. “Stab yourself with this letter opener, RK800.”

Machine Connor grabbed it. “Do you have a preference where?”

Perkins’s eyes gleamed and Tina felt nauseous. “Nope, just stab yourself.”

“Understood,” Machine Connor said. The letter opener hovered over his empty hand and he turned his attention back to Perkins.  “I do want to remind you I’m worth a small fortune so avoiding damage is preferred.”

A pen could drop at that moment. Even Gavin raised an eyebrow. Tina leaned forward. Because what the fuck. That earnest and superficially polite tone… That sounded like Connor. Actual Connor whipped that tone out all the time at work when dealing with morons.

And even officers who didn’t know Connor had to acknowledge the lack of immediate obedience and supposed lack of self-preservation.

The little glee on Perkins’s face vanished.

“Is that backtalk?”

Machine Connor tilted his head, looking for all the world an innocent puppy. Cyberlife’s fancy social programming may just be coming in clutch bu, Jesus, Tina wanted this to be Connor. Just a glimmer of Connor displaying enough free will to not stab himself because of one asshole’s orders. “No, it is a preprogrammed response as Cyberlife does not want to handle unnecessary repairs.”

“Fine,” Perkins bit, “stab yourself somewhere easy to fix.”

She hoped Perkins tripped down a flight of stairs.

Machine Connor jabbed the letter opener into his forearm. Blue immediately soaked through his android jacket sleeve.

“And obvious sign number two,” Perkins said. “They don’t bleed the right color.”

Machine Connor, with no more orders to follow, idled next to the podium. The letter opener still lodged in his forearm and blue blood dripping to the tile floor. Any hint of Actual Connor vanished. If there was any hint to begin with.

Tina dropped her hands to her lap to hide their shaking.

“Any androids you come across will—”