No Flaw in My Code

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I saw this post regarding the homoeroticism of two unstable gays trying to kill each other, and was obviously like, “Markus and Connor, duh.”

Then there was the Tom and Jerry thing and yeah. This. 

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: Gen

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)

Relationship: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) & Reader

Characters: Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Reader

Additional Tags: Machine Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Ruthless Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Implied/Referenced Animal Abuse, The Bridge Chapter (Detroit: Become Human), Canon Compliant, Not Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Mentioned Gavin Reed, It/Its Pronouns for Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Not Beta Read

Summary:

You were assigned to work with Connor against your best wishes.

And there's something. Connor shouldn't be able to touch a gun, ever.

Of course. OF COURSE.

Please enjoy our baby-boy-but-also-killing-machine Connor paired with some Mariana & The Diamonds.

The android returns to the precinct three months later, but it doesn't return the same. 

Placidly, it trails after its CyberLife handler, a Dr. Evan Dreyfus, the promised liaison that had come to the Detroit Central Station as part of the new effort being made to return the city to its former status quo. The deviant uprising late last year had left much of Detroit in disarray and, now that CyberLife's modus operandi had shifted from destroying their defective products to apprehending and recirculating them, they'd managed to strike a deal: the DPD's cooperation in the salvaging of their battered business in return for specialized training, new equipment and (most importantly to the commissioner) a hefty donation to be used at their discretion. As a result, Dreyfus was here to teach the Central Precinct personnel the dangers of deviancy and what to look out for when encountering a rogue android. Like all of them hadn't been here last fuckin year. Like they hadn't seen that shit firsthand. 

The fucker takes his sweet time, going through his little PowerPoint presentation with the air of a disenfranchised college professor giving his lecture by rote. No passion, no enthusiasm, just the same, dry monotone as he rattles off point after point in sequence. It's enough to make someone think he was the robot, not the familiar android standing stock still off to the side. 

Or... it would have been enough, three months ago.

Because now, there is absolutely no mistaking the bot for what it is. Gone was the idle chatter and stupid coin tricks. The too-wide smiles and constantly-moving eyes. The fuckin sass and sarcasm. Gone was every sloppy imitation of humanity. Even its hair had been rigorously styled completely back, no more errant curl slipping down its forehead. The thing stood at attention, hands behind its back, eyes lowered, no trace of warmth or personality at all. For once, it stood there like the machine it was.

And Gavin Reed was not happy about it.

It's stupid, really. He'd been hoping for this when Connor first showed up at the DPD back in November. Gavin had been eager to show this thing its place, to wipe that stupid smile off its gormless face and remind it that humans were its masters—its betters! But here and now, staring at the aftermath of just such a conclusion, Gavin finds himself... unsettled. It's fuckin creepy, the way it just stands there! Like it's nothing more than a fuckin table or something! It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up every time he lets his eyes wander back over to the side.

Beside him, Collins shuffles nervously in his seat and Gavin notes that his gaze, too, continues to list towards the wayward "android detective." A sheen of sweat lines Ben's forehead and he keeps rubbing his hands together, a nervous gesture if ever Gavin saw one. It seems like maybe Gavin wasn't the only one feeling nervous about having this thing back in the precinct. They'd all seen the news reports and video footage of those deviant bastards taking down humans. Gavin had a fuckin lump on the back of his head for weeks from this one here! And now CyberLife wanted to put these fuckers back into service... Yeah, good fuckin luck with that shit.

"Now I'd like to give a live demonstration. Fifty-one, attend!" Dreyfus says suddenly and Gavin finally comes back to his own head to find the entire presentation over. He sure as fuck wasn't sad to miss it, that's for sure. There was only so much bullshit he could stand in one day. 

But as Connor finally moves from his station, gliding over to face them all with an eerie, too-smooth stride, Gavin finds himself refocusing almost against his will. He sits there on guard, watching the android that had assaulted him only three months ago walk up to the dais completely unfettered. A cold sweat creeps up his neck as Connor comes to a stop beside its handler.

Dreyfus waves a hand towards the android.  "I've been told that this precinct has at least a passing familiarity with this unit, is that correct?" he asks, casting his gaze across the assemblage of officers and detectives and med techs and all other assorted personnel. Without waiting for an answer, the man continues on, "I'm sure that those of you who've interacted with it even the slightest bit can see just how changed this model is now. Unit Fifty-One now stands as proof that we at CyberLife have created the ultimate anti-deviancy software, a guarantee from us to you that what happened back in November will never occur again. Fifty-One, state your specifications."

Finally, the android lifts its head and, by some strange luck or curse of karma, stares directly at Gavin, its dull, brown eyes devoid of all life. Gavin sucks in a breath even as it rattles off, "CyberLife prototype model RK800, unit number 313 248 317-51. For use by authorized personnel only as a teaching and demonstration aid."

Dreyfus nods approvingly. "As you can see, we've removed any unnecessary social interaction programs from it. This android is now only as it was always intended to be: an obedient machine. One I shall use for a practical demonstration of how to identify deviants. Now, the first thing that might catch the eye is the CyberLife LED Sensor Ring at an android's temple. However... Fifty-One, remove your LED."

With no hesitation at all, Connor lifts a hand, digging its fingers into its own skin and yanking out the glowing circle that had been embedded there. "Many deviants have been known to remove such outward signs in a fit of mania. Errors in their programming cause these malfunctioning units to tear away their own biocomponents, though luckily, this particular one is easily repairable. Observe: Fifty-One, replace your LED." And, just as easily as the android had removed it, Connor easily slots the device back into its temple. It pulses yellow for a moment before settling back to a placid blue and Gavin— Gavin— 

"Hey Doc, sorry to butt in, but how the fuck can you guarantee this shit?! This sure as fuck ain't proof!" he shouts impulsively, a burning anger rumbling through his chest. This entire fuckin dog and pony show just sets his teeth on edge. Even with Captain Fowler glaring at him from his place at the front of the room, Gavin only leans forward, glare firmly in place as he stares down the lecturer. "You told us fuckin last time that this tincan would listen to what we told it to do and then what happened? It went and fuckin made friends with the the rest of its robot terrorist buddies to destroy the city! It tampered with our fuckin evidence! And it fuckin assaulted an officer! But now you're saying we should just trust your fuckin word that you made it, what? Un-deviate? Fuckin pull the other one, chief. I say we get rid of all these pieces of shit once and for all! We've been doing a great job of it so far without you CyberLife assholes butting in! Destroying these fuckers is the only way to actually guarantee this shit won't happen again!"

"Reed—" growls Fowler, no doubt about to tear into his ass, but he halts as the doctor holds up a hand. "No, Captain, your man has a point I should address. Detective Reed, was it? Would you perhaps be satisfied with a more direct demonstration? Do you have a request?"

And some stupid, ridiculous little part of Gavin has him glaring directly into Connor's vacant eyes, a primal urge compelling him to scream out, "How about you bring me a fuckin coffee, dipshit?!"

Of course, Gavin feels like a moron as soon as the words leave his mouth, but he wouldn't be Gavin Reed if he didn't have at least one major regret a day. For his part, Dreyfus seems unperturbed by Gavin's juvenile request, simply nodding to himself before looking towards his android. "Fifty-One," he says. Connor moves, turning to face its handler with that same, never-changing expression. "Allow request."

When Connor speaks, it is flat, robotic, none of that defiance it'd displayed the first time Gavin asked it this question. "Acknowledged. New mission parameter set." Gavin feels goosebumps rise on his skin.

But Connor moves away, stepping down from the raised dais where the liaison was holding his seminar and moving over to where the complimentary coffee station was set up along the side of the room. Every eye is on the android as it studiously pours the steaming beverage into a styrofoam cup and, after a brief pause, adds in a light splash of milk and a packet of sugar. Then, with that same, unsettling stride, it shuffles across the large room, coming to a stop right before Gavin. Connor sets the drink down on the desk in front of him and says, "Coffee, as requested. Mission objective complete," before returning to the front of the room where its handler is watching the display dispassionately. 

Apparently taking Gavin's newfound silence as satiation, Dreyfus continues his demonstration after that, droning on and on about fuck knows what. But Gavin can't seem to look away from the disposable cup sitting in front of him, wafting curls of steam twisting off the surface. He'd never specified how he wanted his coffee. How the fuck did Connor get it exactly right?