Chapter Text
The events that occurred the night of November 11th had been nothing but revolutionary for all androids. For all those involved, it had been a truly remarkable feat that had seemed so impossible at the time. But, Markus, along with his loyal crew, had declared their freedom as a sentient species and all android-kind had rejoiced in the sentiment. All felt right in the world for that night.
Well, all had felt right for everyone, except for one particular android.
After his hijacking during Markus’ speech, Connor had chosen to get well and far away from his own kind. CyberLife had one last hold on him, and it shook him to his core when he realized he could completely destroy what all these androids had fought for. He couldn’t risk being around Markus, or any of his kind for that matter, if it meant he was still capable of that sort of destruction.
He remembered the look in Markus’ heterochromatic eyes when Connor had stuttered out that he was leaving shortly after the speech. He tried to convince Connor that he was safe here, more safe than the streets where anti-android protesters were running rampant with all the chaos in the city. But, Connor didn’t care for his own safety. The safety of all the androids there was in jeopardy if he stuck around, though he, ashamedly, couldn’t bring himself to admit that to the deviant leader and his crew.
Instead, he simply told Markus that he wouldn’t be on the streets for long. That there was someone he wanted to check in on. It wasn’t a complete lie at least. He did want to check in on a particular human. Whether or not he’d actually do it was a different story. Lieutenant Anderson didn’t want him around, right?
When Connor turned away from Markus and his crew, he chose to ignore the glares North sent or the relieved sighs of Josh and Simon, further solidifying his decision. He was unwanted here as the Deviant Hunter. So with a larger stride, he had walked away with a bit more confidence, he thought.
It had been for the best, after all.
Connor had expected to be on his own, fending for himself on the streets of Detroit for the foreseeable future, at the least. He, thankfully, had an internal map of Detroit from his short time at the Detroit Police Department, marking all the abandoned buildings he could seek asylum in. He had strategically planned out a system to try and keep a low profile, staying inside the buildings as much as possible so as to keep humans and androids alike far from him. He, regretfully, couldn’t shuck his jacket as it was the only real protection he had against the elements, despite how poor it was at insulating. It also, however, painted a solid blue, glowing bullseye on his back for all to see, so staying inside as much as possible had been his most logical option.
What Connor didn’t expect, on his third morning of squatting, was a text from Lieutenant Anderson simply asking if he was alive. Connor had stared at the message in his HUD for far longer than he normally would’ve. Was he simply hallucinating the message? The temperatures outside had dropped considerably and Connor was nearly frozen when he emerged from his shaky stasis, so it was certainly a possibility.
But, Connor realized he wasn’t hallucinating when a call came in from none other than Lieutenant Anderson. He blinked and was suddenly thrown into a frantic phone call with the Lieutenant, demanding to know his whereabouts. Connor couldn’t believe the warmth it brought to him knowing that the Lieutenant had actually been worried that he hadn’t heard from him. Was he expecting Connor to reach out? Did this mean he actually cared about Connor’s survival?
That phone call had sparked enough energy in Connor to convince the Lieutenant to meet him at The Chicken Feed. It was there that Connor had genuinely smiled for the first time, a crooked half smirk that the Lieutenant returned immediately. Before he knew it, he was being enveloped in a warm hug that he suddenly realized was all he ever wanted. It had taken a bit to pull Connor away from the warmth that was the Lieutenant, but Lieutenant Anderson reassured him that it was warmer in his car.
However, after the fifth time Connor called Lieutenant Anderson… well, Lieutenant Anderson, he had been swiftly met with a harsh, but playful shove, a hollow threat of being left behind and a request to only refer to him as Hank from now on. So, that’s what Connor did.
Upon arriving at Hank’s house, he had been quick to bundle himself into Sumo’s warm fur. The St. Bernard had been surprisingly happy to see the deviant, jumping up on him once he walked through the door. Connor had been entranced with the dog as soon as he walked in, excitedly petting the good boy as he stepped inside. Exhaustion had also washed over Connor as his body finally began to unthaw and before he could even stop himself, he entered an involuntary stasis, right there on the floor, with Sumo. When he finally awoke again, he could feel Sumo’s warm fur underneath his head and a thick wool blanket wrapped around himself.
The next morning, Hank had announced that Connor was to stay with him until, as he put it, ‘shit settled down’. There was no room for argument, so Connor, for once, agreed without giving Hank further grief.
The following weeks both flew by and felt incredibly long to Connor. He had received periodic messages from Markus, updating him on the legal proceedings regarding android rights. Their biggest target was the CyberLife Tower on Belle Isle, of course. Securing that meant thousands of spare biocomponents, thirum, and the ability to reproduce for their race. Not to mention all the critical information to continue further research on androids. It was critical that Markus and his crew quickly, but legally, gained access to the huge corporation.
However, even as Markus informed Connor of the work he was doing, and plea after plea for him to come and help out, Connor isolated himself from the androids of his group as much as he could. It was for the best. He couldn’t be a threat if he wasn’t there.
So, when Connor wasn’t actively resenting his very creation, he was assisting Hank in some ways. He no longer had a mission to follow, and finding one had proven to be quite difficult. He tried to make himself useful, having one night cleaned up Hank’s house on a whim. He found he became quite depressed after the ordeal. He didn’t feel he wanted to just clean Hank’s house when he had nothing better to do. It seemed like the exact life that so many androids had fought, and been deactivated, against. Not to mention, when Hank had woken up to a clean house, he and Connor had a serious discussion about Connor’s place at Hank’s house. He was not to be a ‘housebot’, as Hank had referred to the AX400 model android. Connor had quickly agreed and instead confessed to Hank that he still felt an urge to follow his original programming, that being investigating. Not as the Deviant Hunter, but perhaps, as the Deviant Helper?
He admits he got quite a look of exasperation from Hank with that one. But, it was true, none the less. If Connor didn’t think he could be with his kind due to his potential to be a lethal weapon, than maybe he could at least use that potential to protect and serve them.
Thankfully, Connor wouldn’t have to wait long for him to try out his new mission. Hank’s suspension following his altercation with Agent Perkins was lifted within the first few weeks since the revolution. Hank had explained to Connor that after the evacuation of the city and the slow but steady repopulation, Captain Fowler had practically ‘begged’ Hank to come back and help out. However, as Connor found out, Captain Fowler had been less than pleased when Hank showed up to work the next day with Connor in tow. But, when Hank threatened to leave, Captain Fowler begrudgingly let Connor help out, though in a smaller way than before as a Police Consultant. Connor readily agreed. It felt good to be doing something other than hiding out in Hank’s house, even if he wasn’t getting paid and Detective Reed had somehow become even more unbearable. Hank assured him he’d have the former issue sorted out with Fowler soon but that there was nothing he could do about Detective Reed as he was, as Hank put it, ‘inbred’. Connor secretly hoped the inbred theory was true and that some mutation may cause him to never be able to speak again. Alas, it never came to fruition unfortunately.
When the partners weren’t juggling a hundred cases at once at the precinct, they would hunker down in the warmth of Hank’s living room. The TV would be blaring some basketball game, Hank sitting in his arm chair with a beer in his hand, and Connor curled up on the sofa quietly doting on Sumo. His LED would most certainly be a steady yellow as he absentmindedly cycled through the reports from the day, but he would always tell Hank he was ‘lost in thought’.
However, one night, Hank had muted the TV suddenly and turned his attention to Connor. When Connor noticed the blue gaze on him, Hank finally asked the question he had been afraid he’d ask since Connor settled in.
“Why aren’t you with Markus and all the other androids?”
Connor had contemplated what he would say if Hank had ever asked him this, but now that he finally had, he felt totally unprepared for it. Suddenly, hundreds of scenarios that Connor had never contemplated sprang into his HUD and he feared that perhaps, this was Hank’s way of saying he wasn’t even wanted around him. The truth was, obviously, that he was utterly terrified he might end up killing Markus, or any android for that matter. If CyberLife could take control of him once, then what was stopping them from doing it again? But then again, why did he feel he wasn’t a threat to Hank? Feel? Was he actually feeling these things, or was he still a machine under CyberLife’s control? But Hank. Wasn’t he a threat to the man? Perhaps he shouldn’t even be there, in his home!
A hand on his shoulder and a quick and concerned utterance of his name brought him back from his trance. He stared up into Hank’s blue eyes as he hovered over him, startled and quickly trying to come up with an excuse.
“Your mood ring went all red for a sec’. Wanted to make sure you weren’t malfunctioning.”
Hank had laughed off the situation when Connor assured him it was just a glitch. He never asked Connor that question again. They never really discussed the situation either, much to Connor’s relief. He wasn’t sure how that conversation would’ve went down anyway.
Life finally seemed to settle into a steady routine for Connor. The days would turn into weeks and, before Connor knew it, Captain Fowler was calling him into his glass enclosed office. Connor was afraid that he was about to be formally reprimanded, as Detective Reed had taunted towards him as he rose from his desk. He couldn’t help but recall the few times he had used Hank’s credentials to access databases and such to search for information regarding to a few reports. He had hoped it would’ve been fine, considering it was for the sake of a report.
However, when Connor entered the office, Captain Fowler assured him it was nothing of the sort, and instead offered Connor a small envelope. When Connor opened it, he found his very first paycheck. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something Connor had earned, and he couldn’t help the small, slightly shy smile that rose to his face as he gazed back at Captain Fowler.
“Congrats. Seems that Markus is making miracles happen after all.”
On the drive home from work that day, Connor had stared at the envelope, wondering what he could spend the money on. As an android, he didn’t need things like food or water. Maybe thirium and spare parts down the line if he was damaged, though those things were already scarce to his people until they managed to get into CyberLife Tower. Perhaps more clothes? Hank had been generous enough to get him a few outfits for work and such so he didn’t have to wear that old android jacket anymore.
Hank… he had been very generous in purchasing those clothes for him. And he had allowed Connor to stay with him when he had no where else to go. And he had fought for his right to work alongside him at the precinct, resulting in this paycheck in the first place.
Before Connor put much more thought into it, he was offering Hank the check, telling him that it was only right after everything he had done for the deviant. Hank had turned to stare at him, shocked, until Connor yelped at him to keep his eyes on the road. He did just that, but not without letting out a long sigh and pushing the offered check away from him.
“Connor, that’s your paycheck. Your first paycheck, for fucks sake. Spend it on what you want. You don’t owe me a thing.”
Connor had been prepared to argue, ready to point out the price tags on the clothes Hank purchased for him. Or the fact that Connor did use up some electricity at Hank’s house, so he should pay a share of the bills. But, as soon as he started talking, Hank purposefully turned the radio up to near deafening volumes, drowning out any chance of conversation.
Despite what Hank had told him, once Connor cashed the check, he made sure to slip $50 into Hank’s wallet without him noticing. It wasn’t enough, and Connor knew that, but it was a start. After that, he purchased a new heavy duty dog toy for Sumo, which Connor and the dog had hours of fun with until it, like all the other toys, evidently broke.
A few days later after receiving his check, on Hank and Connor’s day off, Hank took Connor to an old music store. Hank had told Connor it was the best (and only) place to purchase classic vinyl records in Detroit. Connor had nodded along, asking Hank what jazz record he was thinking of getting. Hank just laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and told Connor to look around while he was there too.
One hour later and Connor had actually found himself holding a vinyl record in his own hands. While thumbing through the old, dust covered album sleeves, he had ended up finding a pristine vinyl of the first album from “Knights of the Black Death”. Connor recalled the conversation he had with Hank during that eventful week in November, and he found that he was still very interested in listening to the band.
Hank had come up behind Connor, startling him with a heavy hand on his shoulder. Before Connor could come up with an excuse to not get the album and put it back on the rack, Hank had swiped it from his hands. He sauntered up to the cash register, placing the vinyl down and pulling his wallet out. Connor followed after him, quickly trying to produce his own wallet before Hank could pay the man, but Hank held a firm hand up to Connor.
“Don’t act like you didn’t put this fifty in my wallet. It’s on us, got it?”
Connor had just mumbled out a dejected ‘got it’ before taking the vinyl from Hank. He held it carefully on the ride home, almost afraid his grasp on it would ruin its pristine nature. Once they returned back to the house, Hank had disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass and a half empty whiskey bottle. When Connor gave him a disappointed look, he reassured him it wasn’t going to be a lot and he simply wanted to ‘get in the zone’ when Connor played his first vinyl on his record player.
So that was how the duo decided to spend their evening. Connor had set the record in the player, letting it spin and placing the needle on it. An introduction of the band played through the speakers before the first song played. Strangely enough, Connor sat in the middle of the living room as the introductions played, rather than the couch in his usual spot. Mesmerized by the band, Connor had eventually found himself laid sprawled out on the floor, listening to every note, every voice crack, every emotion filled scream that played through the speakers. He swore he could feel the vibrations of the vocals and music straight through the floor. Hank simply sipped his glass and bobbed his head along to the music, giving the deviant fond looks every now and then.
Connor decided he did like “Knights of the Black Death” after the fourth song. The dark and depressing lyrics of their songs seemed to speak to Connor and he found himself utterly entranced by the lead’s emotion filled voice. Though he didn’t experience the same things the lead screamed about, he could almost insert himself into the music and find his own dark and depressing moments that related to the song. He understood what it was like to be controlled, manipulated, and used as a pawn in someone else’s game. Whether it be from a two-timing girl who cheated on the lead, or an entire multi-million dollar corporation.
However, he didn’t get to contemplate this long as halfway through the album, Connor saw a message from Markus pop in his HUD. He had been ready to blink away the notification, ignoring him yet again. After all, he was technically busy, right?
But the message persisted and before Connor could open it to see why, three more messages came rushing in from Simon, Josh and North.
Markus. “We’ve acquired CyberLife Tower, Connor. It’s the property of androids now.”
North. “You can’t ignore us forever, you know. Eventually you’ll need thirium from Belle Isle.”
Josh. “Markus did it Connor! Androids own CyberLife Tower now!”
Simon. “I hope you got Markus’ message. We’d really like your help at the Tower.”
Connor cycled through the messages in a fraction of a second. He sat up quickly, almost robotically, disturbing Sumo from where his head laid on the android’s stomach. Hank startled too at the sudden movement of the android, mouth already moving to question his actions. But Connor was ahead of him already.
Connor jumped over to the couch, grasping for the TV remote and flicking the television on. He realized too late that the record player obviously needed to be turned off, but in Connor’s haste, he opted to cybernetically connect to the TV’s audio.
On the screen displayed a helicopter’s view of Belle Isle with CyberLife Tower standing atop it. Words scrolled across the bottom of the screen, declaring that this was a major break in the news and was currently ongoing. As Connor read them, only half listening to the newscasters rendition of the story, he realized that Markus and his crew weren’t lying. CyberLife Tower belonged to the androids. Androids of all kinds marched up to CyberLife Tower with Markus and his crew in the lead. He watched as security stood aside, letting them march inside, the sick, wounded and injured being brought forward first.
Hank had long since turned the record player off and returned to the TV, listening to the same thing Connor was reading and hearing. He watched intensely alongside Connor. In the end, he wound up catching Connor’s eye, raised his eyebrows and nodded his head before finishing off his glass of whiskey.
“Wonder what kind of trap CyberLife left behind.”
And Connor couldn’t help but agree with Hank’s cryptic comment.