#fluff soon

DBH Infection Au - A malware virus is spreading through Detroit, infecting androids and turning them into a mass-murdering hivemind that is set on eliminating humanity. - This is a tragic Connor x reader fic, so prepare for angst, apologies if my writing is a bit dusty <3

“Look.” Hank pointed further down the alley. “Drag marks.” Your eyes widened as you focused on the marks in the mud, not far from where you had picked up the coin. You shot a concerned look at Hank as he stared down the alleyway, his expression blank aside from his furrowed brows. You knew deep inside, he was just as worried as you were.

“The tracks lead over towards that door.” Hank pointed further, over towards a weathered door sheltered in the shadows. Its dark green paint was scuffed and peeling, exposing the frail wood beneath.

“Help me up.” You winced, cringing as you stumbled in an attempt to stand up. Hank leaned down and helped to pull you to your feet, eyeing your injured arm as you gently cradled it.

“Come on, let’s fix your arm up first and then-“ you cut Hank off, not willing to waste anymore time that could be spent looking for Connor.

“No, Hank, we need to go now!” Hank rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“You’re no good to Connor if you're busy cradling that arm, now come on!” You stubbornly huffed, following the lieutenant towards his car. Hank threw together a make-shift sling with some spare shirts he had laying in the back seat, tying it just a bit too tight for comfort.

"Watch your back." Hank spoke from behind you, gun drawn as the two of you made your way back over towards the drag path. The door was ajar, traces of thirium smeared along the bottom of the doorframe.

Inside was a dark, damp hallway. A narrow staircase lay at the end of the corridor, more traces of thirium and dirt smeared along the floor creating an eerie path towards it.

You gestured for Hank to go ahead, knowing if something were to happen, your injured arm would compromise your reaction time. Hank took the lead, gun aimed in a ready position to fire if need be. As the two of you descended the staircase, you noticed a door up ahead. You tried the door, jiggling the handle to no avail. You looked to Hank, who motioned for you to step back. As you did he blasted the door open with his gun, shattering the locking mechanism.

You hesitated opening the door, cautiously peeking your head through as you entered the room. The room was small, dimly lit with a yellow hazy lightbulb and an additional room off to the side. You felt your heart jump into your throat as your tired eyes landed on the back of who you could only assume to be Connor. He was slouched on his side against a wall in the corner of the room, one arm chained to the radiator beside him. He was looking down, almost as though he were asleep, but you couldn't see his face from where you stood.

"I'll go make sure the rest of this place is clear, you check on Connor." Hank ordered as he stepped into another room off to the side. You nodded, taking in your surroundings before advancing towards the figure in the corner. The only furnishings in the room were an old radiator against one wall and a pile of boxes stacked in a corner.

"Connor, is that you?" You asked, only to freeze in horror as you came face to face with the android. It looked like Connor, barely. What remained of his face looked like some sort of android-human chimera from the old terminator movies. The top half of Connor's face was still in tact, however the skin from his mouth down appeared to have been violently ripped away, replaced by a shiny black metal.

"Connor, Connor wake up!" you cried in horror, crouching down so you were eye-level with Connor as you began to shake the android in an attempt to wake him. His LED flickered, his eyes fluttering open. His eyes - they were not the comforting chocolate brown you'd grown accustomed to, rather they were now two mechanical red irises surrounded by a pool of black. You watched as the eyes spun and dilated as he tried to make sense of what was in front of him.

"...? Is that you?" Connor asked, reaching out with his free hand to brush along your face. You flinched at the sudden touch of cold metal against your skin, eyeing his skinless hand wearily.

"It's me, Connor. What happened to you?" you asked, jumping as his hand suddenly retracted, clenched in a fist. Connor's face seemed to glitch between concern and anger, as though he couldn't decide which to be.

"I was attacked... they transmitted the virus to me... I'm... I'm infected." He trailed off, his eyes spinning and dilating once more as his LED started spinning in amber circles. He reached a blackened metal hand towards you once more, cupping the back of your neck as he leaned up to meet you. You leaned in towards him, teary-eyed as your lips met once more in a longing kiss. Your hand snaked into his hair, playing with the loose strands as you tried to savour the fleeting moment. Connor broke the kiss regretfully, meeting your gaze. "Be careful, you need to..." He trailed off once more, his hand suddenly seizing and clenching around your neck.

Your eyes went wide, struggling to free yourself from his mechanical grasp. Your eyes burned as your brain was deprived of oxygen, flailing around helplessly in the android's grasp. You fumbled for your gun, unable to grasp it firmly as you struggled to breath. Suddenly he stopped, falling limp against the wall. You fell backwards, clutching at your throat, wincing at the force the fall had on your injured arm. Connor started moving again, sitting up slowly as his eyes opened once more. He sat in silence for a moment, his eyes seeming to adjust to his surroundings again.

"Where am I?" Connor finally asked, looking up at you. His face was void of any sign of recognition of who you were, as though his memory had been wiped. His LED shone bright blue. "Where is Lieutenant Hank?" You pushed down the shock of the moment, shoving away the hurt from his lack of recognition towards you.

"Jesus, plastic prick!" Hank muttered as he slowly stepped out of the other room as if on cue. Your eyes widened, watching as a spitting image of Connor pressing a gun to Hank's head stepped out with him. "Sorry, kid." Hank spoke, grimacing at the imposter by his side.

"What did you do to him?" you seethed at the other Connor, eyes wild with rage as you now realised something sinister was at play here. "My Connor..." you whimpered looking back at him, cupping the real Connor's desecrated face with your hand, his expression remaining cold and unfamiliar to your touch.

"I was assigned a mission and I completed it." The imposter spoke matter-of-factly, gazing down at the two of you. "Did you really think Cyberlife would let one of their most advanced androids deviate? I've just transmitted the cure to this virus into that android. Cyberlife receives constant updates from this model, they were aware of its deviation from the very beginning. They've seen every moment the two of you shared." He watched as your rage turned to one of shock.

"Don't worry, he was already infected by the time I got to him. The cure I transmitted is an update that wipes the memory of the android up to the first meeting with it's Master." he nudged the gun against Hank's head. "In this case, you." He looked back at you once more, lifting a brow. "Of course, there was a second part to my mission that remains incomplete. The true source of this android's deviancy must be dealt with."

With his gun turning towards you, you almost didn't have enough time to react. Raising your own gun, you fired simultaneously. Sharp pain erupted throughout your chest, as though someone had impaled you with a white hot poker. Hank shouted something incoherent, followed by more gunshots, before he rushed to your side. He looked at Connor, although the android cradled your body in his arm's his expression remained cold and uncaring.

"Hank... I'm sorry." you choked out, trying not to suffocate on the blood that was slowly making its way up your throat and into your lungs. Hank didn't say anything, almost looking straight through you. You knew what he was thinking of, how this scene reminded him of the trauma from losing his son.

You fumbled around in your pocket, pulling out the coin Connor had dropped earlier that day. You pushed it into his hand, praying that he'd remember something, anything about himself. You didn't want him to forget his humanity; You didn't want him to forget you. You watched faintly as his LED began spinning amber once more, his eyes dilating as though he were scanning the rounded piece of silver. Suddenly he looked down at you, as though he were really seeing you this time. His eyes seemed soft despite the mechanical pieces.

"You're dying" Connor spoke matter-of-factly, gently trailing a hand along your cheek. His eyes fell across your features, soaking up every little detail he could. You never wanted him to let you go.

"I know." you replied softly, cupping his hand against your cheek, closing your eyes as you leaned into his touch. Connor pulled you further into his embrace, guiding your head to his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair, brushing out the matted tangles soothingly. The last thing you remembered were his timid lips as he placed a kiss against your forehead, sending you off into an effortless slumber.

Connor sat still for a moment, looking down at your motionless form. He gazed over at Hank, still sitting quietly looking at your body, his eyes empty, devoid of emotion.

"I have a feeling like... this has happened before." Connor started, looking up at Hank. The lieutenant seemed to look past Connor, as though there were someone behind him. "I believe humans call this phenomenon Déjà vu." Hank nodded blankly, hands resting on his knees. After a long moment Hank went to stand up, looking down at the crumpled imposter he'd shot dead minutes ago.

"Let's get out of here." Hank spoke defeatedly, kicking the limp machine before making his way out and up the stairs. He paused, looking back once more. "Bring them with you." Connor nodded, picking up your limp body in his arms and carrying you outside. He knew something terrible had happened. He knew you meant something to him. But the memory wipe had compromised his data beyond repair. All he had were fragmented pieces of moments you'd spent together.

"Breaking news, the violent deviancy virus nicknamed the Chimera Effect has ravaged the majority of Detroit city. Anyone still sheltering are advised to evacuate immediately and avoid any contact with androids. Decorated officer Lieutenant Hank Anderson and his partner were reportedly shot dead by their android partner hours earlier, despite Cyberlife releasing a counter-virus that aimed to wipe an androids memory. Please evacuate immediately, Canada is allowing people through it's border under strict security. More at six."

Summary: Team Free Will 2.0 trapped in a dead end while being hunted escalates rather quickly. Some things are best left unsaid, and the worst when they make it out.

Also based off this textpost:

Sam: My plan is a great plan.

Dean: Your plan is to sacrifice yourself.

Sam: Yes, a great plan.

Cas: No, if I can't sacrifice myself, you can't.

Dean: I think I should be the one to sacrifice myself.

Jack: You all make good points but consider this, I sacrifice myself.

Dean: Okay.

I’m sorry

I’m sorry x2

Fic Masterlist/ Main Masterlist

Rhys had had one hell of a night. Racing down the dark avenue, he only slowed momentarily to catch a glimpse of his pursuers. Luckily, there was no one behind him, meaning he had outrun the rival gang’s members. His ex-girlfriend, Amarantha, had sold him out to the leader of the Spring gang, Tamlin. Rhys dove into an empty store on one of the side streets that ran along the avenue. Gasping for breath, he reached into his pocket to retrieve a burner phone. He dialed the only person he could call, praying that she would pick up.

“Hello?” A cautious, yet silky feminine voice drawled on the other line. Rhys sighed in relief.

“Don’t hang up, please! I need your help, Feyre.” He begged, voice cracking on her name. A wave of dizziness overcame him momentarily, and he clutched his arm to try and staunch the bleeding. He clenched his teeth against the pain, unable to stop a grunt as he pinched the wound to seal it off. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he realized Feyre’s line had gone deathly silent. Then she inhaled sharply.

“I’m coming to find you.” Determination filled her voice. Then- “Are you… are you hurt?” Rhys was beyond surprised to hear concern, no, worry in her tone.

“I’m fine. Just a little stab wound,”

“Rhys!” Feyre exclaimed, sounds of shuffling and the jingling of keys were audible. “Where are you?” He then proceeded to tell her his location, hoping against all odds that she would have mercy on him. Mercy, because Feyre Archeron had once promised to kill him, and cauldron knew that she most definitely could.

He began to dream of the night that they first met, and of the deal that they had struck:

He had planned on going to the roof to escape the noise, but he had hesitated upon seeing a beautiful, golden-haired woman practically running from the obnoxiously loud ballroom. From an outsider’s perspective, it looked like a huge company party full of snobby rich people. In actuality, it was filled to the brim with gang bosses, members, and the occasional hacker. The ball was the only day each year that the gangs even pretended to be civil with each other. He eventually decided to follow the woman out the exterior door that she had gone through to make sure she was safe. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” Rhysand purred at the gorgeous woman standing before him as the door closed behind him with a click. She was wearing a long, forest green gown that accentuated her already devastating figure. The woman scoffed at him before running her eyes up and down his own body. Damn him if it didn’t make his heart pick up its pace in his chest. He chastised himself for his thoughts. He had a girlfriend, albeit an abusive and controlling one that always had some way to blackmail him.

“You’re a prick, you know that, right?” Her eyes blazed with fire and amusement that had feelings stirring in Rhys that he admittedly hadn’t felt in a long time. Or ever.

“The name’s Rhysand, not prick, but I’m fine with anything you call me as long as it is coming out of that delicious mouth of yours, Darling.” She rolled her eyes at his antics, before dropping her eyes to the ground.

“My name is Feyre,” She whispered before continuing, her next words ones that chilled Rhys to his very core, “Tamlin doesn’t like me talking to anyone.” Icy rage shot through Rhys’s veins like adrenaline. How could anyone be so cruel? Then he realized: wasn’t that what Amarantha had been doing to him? Isolating him from his friends. His rage dulled into sadness for the both of them. Rhys took a few tentative steps closer to Feyre and tilted her chin up.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not just anyone.” He murmured, his breath caressing her forehead. Even in such high heels, Rhys had about five inches on her. She shivered, causing him to be concerned. He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, and her shivering stopped.

“Thank you.” She murmured, rubbing her hands over her gloved arms to warm them up. One of her gloves slipped down her forearm; that was when he saw the bruises. His fury returned in full force at what Tamlin had done to her. Her eyes widened as she realized that her arms had been exposed.

“I can help you.” Rhys whispered. She shook her head.

“Please leave me alone.” She drew back from him.

“I- I can’t.” He silently pleaded with her to return to his embrace, so he could protect her. She pulled out a vicious looking knife and it clattered to the ground when she threw it away.

“I was supposed to kill you. Tamlin told me to stab you when I lured you out here, but I can’t. You’re- you’re so different than what I thought you’d be.” Her voice was thick with guilt. Rhys realized that he should have known better than to fall for such a trick. Then again, she had seemed to be in genuine pain.

“I guess I owe you then.” He regarded her in a flat tone, but when he met her gaze, he let his expression show the true offer there. Do you need me to get you out? He asked through his eyes. She nodded, only a small sliver of doubt in her eyes as she extended her hand to shake his.

“If you’re lying to me, then I’ll kill you. But we have a bargain.” He gripped her small hand in his large one.

“Then I swear to never lie to you, Feyre Darling.” Her eyes softened, and they hurried away from the party, but not carefully enough to escape the notice of a certain red-haired henchman, who finally did something to help his friend Feyre. He told Tamlin nothing.

In the three weeks since he’d helped her to get away from Tamlin, Feyre and him had finally built a tentative trust between themselves. Rhys knew that she would not be happy about him going on such a dangerous mission without telling her or anyone else in the gang first, but Rhys just had to go after Tamlin. Tamlin, who was still apparently very angry about the disappearance of his girlfriend, who was coincidentally his best person in the field. Tamlin had taken to giving Feyre low paying, low risk jobs in order to keep control over her. Rhys sighed in resignation. At least Amarantha was gone forever; she had been sleeping with Tamlin for the past year. Luckily, Tamlin still had no idea where Feyre was; she was living in Rhys’s own apartment on the other side of the city. Rhys was losing consciousness from the blood loss, and his surroundings were starting to slip away from him. The last thing he thought of before he succumbed to darkness was the look that would be on Feyre’s face when she heard what had become of her ex-lover and what Rhys had done and still planned to do to him.

Twenty minutes later, Rhys was shaken awake by a pair of small hands with slight calluses and definite strength despite their size.

“Rhys!” It was Feyre. This was the first time she had ever used his preferred name; she always called him either Rhysand or Prick. She gently slapped him, and he forced his eyes open a crack.

“Feyre,” He murmured, his voice coming out as a breathy whisper. He traced her cheekbone with his fingers, unable to keep his mask up in his weakened state. Feyre could probably see every emotion in his eyes before they drifted closed again. The darkness beckoned him into its depths. Rhys knew that he didn’t have much time left. He felt himself slipping away.

“Rhys, please.” There was so much distress in her voice, and resolve too, that she sounded like she maybe…cared for him. Rhys didn’t actually believe this, of course. He was darkness, she was light, but when she held his hand and started to lift him, he made himself hold on. He just needed to keep the darkness at bay for a little longer.

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A/N: This is going to be a little more angsty and action packed than most of my other fics. There will still be fluff, I promise, just not in this chapter 😏. Also, I know I heavily imply that Rhys is dead in this chapter, but he’s just dying, I swear(he’ll be fine, where would our story be without him). Yes, I sound just a tad sadistic right now, but it gets better.