RK900 / PERFECTION

“i said i’m fine, rk900!” it’s the lack of sleep, it has to be. it’s the only reason she can think of for losing her composure like this. exhaustion. she, after all, isn’t an android.

“i’m fine.”

@ninehundredmistakes | not ready to make nice - the dixie chicks

“i’m not ready to make nice.” she knows she has to meet with the defective machines and the government. it doesn’t mean she’s happy about it. “i’m not ready to back down.” she’s taking the 900 with her. prove to markus that deviance wasn’t the right path.

the fear he experienced was intense, registering that there was no reasoning with the rk900. there was no way to make him see that deviancy suited connor more than a reset ever could. it was all useless and he hated the feeling of the connection, attempted to squirm and push the other away. he tried to fight the probing at his data, tried to resist with all he could. he reminded himself of everything he could to try to hold onto himself. hank. sumo. markus. he repeated names over and over in his head but he felt it slipping away.

tears fell. desperate pleas for help escaped trembling lips. he didn’t want to forget. he didn’t want to lose it all. he didn’t want to lose himself. he cursed the other android, cursed cyberlife for all they had done to him and that they wouldn’t let him be but words began to die on his tongue, forgetting. resetting. becoming machine once more.

it was harder. harder than elijah’s private android. not that she hadn’t put up a fight... perhaps was it the fact they shared a lot of one design. perhaps was it the fact he possessed connor’s memory in his databanks for careful analysis. but it would need more than a minute.

[ >>> recalculating ]

then again, it wouldn’t be so hard on connor if connor had accepted to cooperate at the beginning. now he was crying and pleading and cursing and for what? nothingness. there was no chord to strike. there was no string to pull. rk900 was just a machine with no name that accomplished any given mission with the determination of a hunting dog.

baley could only hope that he was right.

well. there was no backing out now. in what time there was before his mind was reset he felt almost a peace, thankful that he didn’t have to feel pain again. that he wouldn’t have to feel the stress or hurt or remember the fear thea had put into him. it would be gone. what remained of deviancy was glad to feel the negativity get wiped away with ease.

but then it was gone. it was all gone and… he didn’t feel a thing. the rk800 couldn’t recall a thing that lead to this moment.

a brief system scan. all systems functioning at optimum level.

“name registered. awaiting further instruction.”

“ your model is awaited at the detroit’s police department. captain fowler will assign you to a partner. ”

himself worked there as a cover to the more subtle missions he’d been given by thea rhodes. he would be able to keep an eye on the newly reset rk900. his decision to reset it shouldn’t lower the success rate of the police department or he would have made a mistake.

his calculations, however, were always correct.

the rk900 was skilled enough. created to near perfection.

“ you report to me. ”

he had promised he wouldn’t send him near cyberlife again.

“ you cannot win. your behavior, albeit predictable is illogical. ”

[ >>> mission: bring the deviant intact ]

“ cooperate or be shut down. ”

led flashed in a continuous red, dashing and weaving, but he knew it was futile. connor just didn’t want to go back to machine. he didn’t want to lose what he was now, didn’t want to lose all those memories. they were everything to him. those moments with hank, they were precious to him. maybe that was what caused him to miscalculate. maybe he hadn’t miscalculated at all, maybe he was just foolish enough to let himself be cornered so quickly. he stood no chance to fight. there was nowhere to run. “kovzhv… blf wlm'g szev gl wl gsrh.”