#shadow mine

Hank was starting to wonder if this day was ever going to actually end.

It was late, the sun having set by now. Jeffery Fowler sat in front of him, looking down at his tablet with narrow eyes, his mouth a thin line. Hank’s report was on there; paperwork was no longer done on actual paper anymore, but that was how it was now. When Hank had been young, everyone always said that everything would be electronic in the future. Sometimes, he forgot that he was living in that future. Even his own partner was wire and plastic instead of flesh and bone.

“So the long and short of it is,” Fowler said after he’d spent a good five minutes going through Hank’s work, “we’ve got sweet fuck all.”

“Pretty much.” Hank replied. His shoulder was aching something awful. Was it time for his pills yet? Had to be. “I mean, we could’ve had something, but you thought it’d be a good idea to put that fire cracking piece of shit Gavin on the case too. I thought you wanted ‘the best’, not, ‘the bottom of the fucking barrel’.”

“Reed’s a good detective,” Fowler said, but Hank could practically hear ‘when he wants to be’ hanging in the air after the statement. “This isn’t a game, Lieutenant. You know how this is going to look if we can’t solve it? We’ve got a good man dead and an android gone too. Everyone’s on high alert.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Hank said, barely biting back his anger. “Shit, Jeffrey, we’ve got no damn motive. All we know is her model number and vaguely what she looks like, but there could be a hundred other androids out there that are her spitting image. Dammit it, this is gonna do more harm to them all as a whole, public ain’t gonna take lightly to this.”

Hank didn’t know much about Markus other than what he’d seen on TV and what Connor had told him, but he had to admire the dedication that he’d put into the immense task of fighting for his people’s rights. An incident like this was only going to be one big ugly mark on everything his revolution had stood for, was only going to damage the message Markus had been sending. Fowler leant forward on his desk, chin on his linked hands, and sighed. “The analysis on the bullets found in both Glennister and Zack is still in progress, so we’re hoping there’ll be a match on the gun to help us find the suspect. In the meantime, we’ve got jack shit to go on. Go home, Hank. There’s nothing else we can do right now.”

Hank scoffed. “No way. This ain’t over, Jeffrey, there’s gotta be something—”

“If there was, I’d be working your ass off on it. You’re still injured, Hank, you shouldn’t even be here. Get the hell out of my office and go home. I’ll call if anything comes up.”

Hank genuinely wanted to fight him on it. Logically, he knew he was right, knew that there really wasn’t anything to be done, but damn if it didn’t still piss him off. How could one android manage to kill not one, but two members of the DPD and still manage to evade them?

It was easy to blame Gavin, but Hank knew that the AX400 would have probably escaped even if the detective hadn’t nearly gotten himself killed by running out into traffic. Emotions had been high, and because of it Decker hadn’t noticed that the AX400 had never left the scene. There’d been no warning that she’d been there. Hank had assumed that forensics would have scoped the area out before actually starting any kind of investigation. None of them had been ready for a chase.

He left the office and found Connor at his desk opposite Hank’s, flipping his coin up and down. Hank had asked him why he did the tricks once, and Connor had given him some longwinded explanation about recalibration alongside other android jargon that Hank didn’t understand. It was bullshit anyway. He thought that Connor did it because he enjoyed the rhythmic action of it, an act of deviance long before he’d officially broken out of his programming.

A cup of coffee was on Hank’s own desk, still steaming, freshly made. Hank grabbed it by the handle and took a careful swig. It was black, perfectly to his liking. It burned a soothing path down his throat. “You made this?” he asked.

Connor wasn’t listening to him. His eyes were focused on the coin, watching it as he went up and down. “I don’t understand.” he said. “First a human, now an android. It makes no sense. Why would the type of target change? Has the MO changed?”

Clink. Clink. The coin hit his fingers and he threw it in the air again. Again. “She was angry, I think.” Clink. “But also, she held so little regard for her own life. When she ran into the road, I don’t think she was attempting to get Gavin to follow her.” Clink. “No. She was just trying to escape and she didn’t care if she died trying.”

Hank didn’t speak, just kept his mouth shut for once. Connor’s eyes stayed on the coin the entire time, tracking it up and down. “If she doesn’t care for her own life, that suggests she has little to live for. But why take the lives of law enforcement? Why attack and kill her own people? I can’t understand it. I feel like I’m…”

“Hitting a wall?” Hank suggested, putting the coffee mug down in front of Connor. “Yeah, I get that. I’m feeling the same way.”

The thunk of the coffee mug diverted his attention away from his coin. He looked at the steaming mug, and then closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair. When he said nothing, Hank decided to pursue a different line of questioning. “You made the coffee for me?”

“I thought it was better than you returning home to a bottle of alcohol.” Connor said, keeping his eyes closed. “I checked it myself before serving to make sure it matched the coffee you usually make for yourself at home.”

Hank suddenly regretted drinking it. “You put your goddamn fingers in my coffee for a taste-test?”

“No.” Connor’s lips quirked upwards slightly. “But I would be lying if I said I hadn’t considered doing so, and we both know you can apparently tell when I’m not being entirely truthful.”

Well, that was a relief. Hank took another swig, and then sat in his chair. “So tell me Connor,” he said. “What the hell possessed you to run out into that fucking road today?”

Connor’s eyes flicked open again. He was leant so far back in his chair now that he was practically reclining. Staring up at the ceiling, he folded his arms across his chest. “My chance of catching the suspect was far lower than successfully rescuing Gavin, so I chose the option with the better prospects.”

“Okay, great. Glad to hear what your programming thinks.” Hank said. “Now let’s hear what you were really thinking.”

Connor blinked several times in succession. Hank couldn’t see his LED from this angle, which made it more difficult to gauge just how stressful Connor found the question. He rarely showed his emotions on his face. “I was thinking that I would regret it if I let Gavin die there when I knew I could save him. I didn’t want to feel that way. But I…” Connor frowned. “I was scared.”

Hank raised his eyebrows, but waited. It was human nature to want to fill silence with chatter. If he left it long enough, he hoped that the deviant in Connor would respond to that want, and lo and behold, he did. “I realised that by saving Gavin, I would be putting myself in a great deal of danger. When I ran into the road, I kept thinking, will this be the last thing I do? Will these cars be the last thing I hear? See? I’ve died before, but I didn’t really understand it then like I do now. My predecessor—the Connor that died in Stratford Tower—was he scared too?”

Hank remembered Connor throwing himself in the way of that gunfire, the way Hank had thought he might have survived only to pull his body up off the ground and find him riddled through with bullets. Though he knew Connor used to be able to back himself up infinitely, he’d never thought of the separate Connor’s as different beings, not like how Connor differentiated them now.

But was it so unlikely that the Connor sat before him was not the same one he’d met in the bar? The one that had held Hank hostage had been entirely different to his Connor despite sharing the exact same memories. What a chilling thought. He wasn’t drunk enough for this kind of chat.

“Fear’s a good thing, son.” Hank said, realising that Connor was not looking for an answer to his question. He’d dealt with him for long enough now to recognize the cues that Connor gave off, how to respond to him in a way that Connor would respond back to. Right now, he was unsure in a way only an android could be, still dealing with emotions that were new and complex. “Fear’s what keeps us alive. You were scared because you thought you might die, and that’s normal, Connor. The fact that you ran out into that road to save someone else even though you were scared? That was bravery. Fucking stupid and I could have killed you for it, but credit where credit’s due.”

Connor sat back up in the chair, leaning forward, his hands on his knees. “I think I needed to hear that.” he said softly. Mission accomplished, Hank thought. “What did the Captain tell you?”

“That we’ve got nothing and we should go home.” Hank sighed. “We’re still waiting on results and shit to come back, so I guess he’s probably right. You ready to head on back?”

Connor cast a longing gaze at the terminal on his desk. “No.” Hank said. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re not staying here to work yourself half to death over information we don’t have. We are going home to get some food and rest.” he paused. “Well, I’m going to bed. You’re going to do whatever it is you androids do when you’re tired.”

“I don’t get tired.” Connor said. “It’s impossible—”

“Connor,” Hank said, standing up. “Don’t fight me on this. We’re going.”

Connor looked like he wanted to argue the point, but he relented. “I’m driving?”

“Yeah, you’re driving. I don’t see me behind the wheel anytime soon.”

--

Sumo was waiting for them when they got back, ready to jump Connor as soon as they got through the door. Hank left them to their reunion and refilled his bowl for him before heading back to his room to change. Getting dressed one-armed was an absolute bitch. He couldn’t wait for it to heal.

When he went back to the kitchen, Connor had left out his pills for him. He was in the living room now, talking gently over the phone with someone. Hank caught wind of the words pepperoni and sausage and couldn’t help but laugh. If someone had told him this time last year that he’d have an android in his house ordering him pizza, Hank would have told them to put the bottle down and move on.

Hank downed the pills and leant on the doorframe. “What’s this?” he said. “You sure you didn’t hit your head when that AX400 shoved you over?”

Connor, who had taken up residency on his claimed side of the sofa, shook his head. “I ran a diagnostic after we returned to the office. I’m fully functional.”

Hank wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not. Connor often intentionally made it difficult to tell. “You say that, but here you are, ordering pizza. I was just going to chuck something in the microwave and then head to bed, you know. It ain’t like the pizza’s more healthy than whatever I could have made in five minutes.”

A beat. Connor looked rather sheepish. “I just thought it would be easier. If it isn’t to your liking, I can always cancel—”

“No, no, don’t do that.” Hank cut in quickly. “I was just saying, I thought it was weird. Usually you’re in there cooking up a storm out of whatever you’ve decided to bring home this time, I never even get a look in anymore. Always healthy and never fun, bleugh, I thought this was my house.”

“You still eat it though,” Connor pointed out. “Anyway, I decided that it would be more beneficial to the both of us if I ordered in. So I did.”

“Oh I get it.” Hank said, and he was grinning now. “That’s a fancy way of you trying to say I couldn’t be bothered. Don’t worry, Connor, you can say it, I’m not going to judge you.”

Connor crossed his arms, clearly offended. Hank outright laughed at him. “Go get changed,” he said. “I’m tired of seeing you in that uniform. It’s like work being at home with me and I just want to forget about what we don’t know right now. Also, I don’t know if you realise it, but the blue bits can get fucking obnoxious in low light. It’s giving me a headache.”

What Hank really wanted was for Connor to dump the jacket entirely. As far as he knew, most other androids had gotten rid of their uniforms already. Connor, however, still bore his model number and Cyberlife branding like a badge of pride. Why, Hank couldn’t figure out. Was the jacket that important? Or did Connor not yet feel like he’d integrated enough to remove it?

He came back in wearing a grey, long sleeved shirt and a black pair of trousers. It was the plainest outfit combo Hank had ever seen, and yet it was a miracle he’d ever gone that far. One time Hank had told him to get changed and he’d come back sans jacket but still wearing the exact same getup. When Hank had questioned him on it, he’d just said something to the effect of, “It doesn’t matter what I wear,” and ended the conversation at that.

“You ever gonna buy yourself some other outfits?” Hank asked.

Connor glanced down at himself. “Clothes are expensive, and it isn’t as if I need a surplus of different shirts.”

“Yeah, but don’t you get bored?”

“No.” Connor replied bluntly. He sat down and turned the TV on. “I’m going to go into stand-by, so feel free to watch what you want.”

Hank gave him a look. “I thought you said you weren’t tired.”

“I don’t get tired.” Connor said, echoing his statement from earlier. “I just need to stop thinking for a while. I don’t get headaches like humans do, but I feel like there is a great deal of stress on my system. It’s unpleasant.”

“Not gonna stick around for the pizza you ordered?”

“I can’t eat it regardless. And I’d rather not see the calorie count of every slice.” Connor’s smile was a sardonic thing. “If you need me, just shake my shoulders. I’ll wake up.”

“Right.” Hank said. “Wait, you’re gonna just do that sitting up?”

Too late. Connor’s eyes flickered unnervingly and then fell shut, his body going rigid. Sumo padded over from the kitchen, sitting in front of him and wagging his tail. “Christ almighty. Yeah, you’re not getting any pats out of him right now, Sumo, kid’s a fucking statue.” he paused, prodding Connor in his side as a test. Yep. He wasn’t moving anytime soon. “Does he always do it this way?”

Sumo cocked his head, and then pawed at Hank’s leg. “What? What’s up, boy?”

More pawing. For such a big dog, Sumo could sure act like a puppy when he wanted to. His doorbell rang at that moment, signalling the pizza. He sighed and got up. “Alright Sumo, give me a minute.”

The pizza wasn’t delivered by an android, like Hank was used to, but an actual human for once. Times really were changing. Connor had paid in advance, so as soon as the pizza was in hand, Hank was heading back to the living room.

Where Sumo had stolen his seat and curled up next to Connor.

“Oh, so these are the new sleeping arrangements.” Hank said, shaking his head. Connor hadn’t wanted a bed, or even a room. He was content with leaving his pile of limited clothes in Hank’s room and chilling on his side of the sofa when he wasn’t busy. “I was wondering why there was so much dog hair on my couch. I swear, what’s he done to make you love him so much huh? It’s all the petting, ain’t it?”

Sumo looked at him expectantly. Hank flipped the pizza box open and took a slice from it. “You want it? Come get it.”

Sumo looked back at Connor, and then laid his head on his leg. “Oh wow. Now that’s a damn sight. Probably for the best, he’d kill me if he found out I let you snack on pizza.”

He ate two slices of the pizza before calling it a day. Connor had ordered something too large for even him, and he was just one man on his own. He put the remains in the fridge for the morning; they’d make for a good snack on the way to work.

The Whitfield files were still on the floor by his kitchen table where Connor had left them. Hank retrieved them and chucked them on the side to be forgotten about. It sucked, but the dead shop assistant would have to wait. “Alright, Connor, Sumo,” Hank announced. “I’m heading to bed. Don’t fuck anything up, hear me?”

Sumo barked his affirmation. Connor, who was still deep in stand-by mode, said nothing.

Sleep came easy after the day he’d had. He would have been content to be late to work in favour of his bed, except he was rudely awakened by his phone going off by the side of his bed. Damn, he knew he should have put the thing in airplane mode.

He grabbed it off the side and fumbled for the accept call button. His shoulder was killing him again. “What?” Hank said blearily, not even giving the caller ID a look.

“Morning to you too, Hank.” Fowler’s voice was tinny down the line. “Where the hell are you?”

“In my bed, enjoying some well deserved sleep.” Hank replied. “What the fuck are you doing calling me at—” he checked the time. “—what the hell? It’s barely past seven, I’m not even late!”

“Another cop’s been killed.” Fowler said, his voice clipped. “The media’s got hold of it, it’s all over the fucking news. I’ve got the android she was partnered with going apeshit and everyone’s losing their goddamn minds. I need you, Hank.”

Hank closed his eyes, a heavy sigh in his throat. “Human this time who died, huh?”

“Yeah. We’ve scoped out the scene, the AX400 is gone. I’m sending you the location, you know what to do.”

The drive to the crime scene was a quiet, tense thing.

The truth was, Connor enjoyed driving. Most cars nowadays were self sufficient in that they could drive themselves and make their own decisions, but Hank still drove an old fashioned manual thing that had probably been built in the 2020’s. While Hank’s shoulder was recovering, Connor had been given control temporary ownership of the vehicle, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to give it up when Hank recovered. There was a sense of freedom in being in control of a giant, metal, moving contraption, and Connor had to admit; he did feel a bit of thrill when he drove it slightly too fast.

He didn’t feel thrilled right now. In fact, he was mostly driving on auto-pilot, his processing power mostly focused on his thoughts for the case. Was this stress? Was he stressed? Ridiculous. It was ridiculous. The RK800 model didn’t get stressed. The RK800 model was meant for delicate situations that required the utmost calm, it was Cyberlife’s most advanced prototype, it was—

Another car pulled out too quickly in front of him, and he barely hit the breaks in time. “Woah, what the fuck was that, Connor?” Hank snapped. It was the first thing he’d said since they’d left the drive. “You trying to cause a goddamn accident?”

Connor shook his head. “No. No, I wasn’t.”

“Sure about that? You’re too quiet. Don’t tell me you’re still upset because you couldn’t figure this case out with literally the bare minimum.”

“I’m not. Upset, I mean. I’m not upset.” Connor stared straight ahead at the road. He’d slipped back into his older self for a moment then, thinking of himself as an it instead of a he, as a machine instead of a deviant. If anything that only proved that he was stressed. If his hands hadn’t been on the wheel, he would have covered his face in embarrassment. All these very human feelings, and he didn’t know how to compute a single one of them.

“You know, Connor,” Hank said. “I’ve noticed something about you.”

Connor wasn’t sure if he liked the tone Hank was using. It was a little bit concerned, but there was irritation there too. He started monitoring Hank’s stress levels (mid-to-high) and in the background, he calculated the likelihood of him liking whatever came out of Hank’s mouth next.

Low. Nearly in the single digits low.

“You’re the worst fucking liar I’ve ever met.” Hank continued. “And I’ve had to interrogate some real idiots.”

As always, Connor’s statistical data had been spot on. “What? I haven’t lied to you.”

“And there it is again.” Hank laughed, a genuinely amused sound. “You know what a tell is? Of course you do. You interrogate people, you look for them yourself. Well, guess what Connor, you really must be human, ‘cause your tell is as fucking obvious as a doped up chicken.”

Connor didn’t know quite how to respond to that. He felt so entirely scrambled that he was certain some of his wires had to be crossed somewhere. “I see.” is all he managed, before he asked, “So what is my tell then?”

“Your LED flashes red for a second before you say it, you idiot.”

Connor winced. That was indeed obvious. “I see.” he said again. “That’s…interesting to know.”

“Anyway,” Hank said, “now you know I can read you like a book, dial it back on the crap. Stop beating yourself up over what you don’t know. I’m not those dipshits at Cyberlife, I don’t care if you can or can’t piece something together with scraps. You don’t have to impress me, Connor, I’m not going to switch you off and leave you somewhere if you don’t perform.

Connor drove the rest of the way there in stunned silence. Before, he’d always worked under the threat of deactivation if he didn’t complete his work to standard. So was that it? Was that the reason behind why he felt so knotted inside? Was it because he felt like he had already failed somewhere along the way? He thought of Hank being shot in a room while he was so far away, he thought of the promise he’d made to Clara, and wondered if Hank was right, if Hank had managed to figure it out before Connor had even started making connections.

Was it that he was scared of botching his mission directives?

The crime had occurred in an underground parking lot. When Connor pulled up, he was immediately greeted with the sight of Gavin talking with a man his scans identified as one Martin Decker, the dead android’s human partner. “For fuck’s sake,” Hank muttered under his breath as Connor killed the engine. “The hell is that asshole doing here? I thought Fowler was sending us specifically.”

Apparently not content with asking rhetorical questions, Hank threw the car door open with his good arm and went marching up towards Gavin immediately. Connor took a moment to canvas the scene, checking where the forensics team were already placing their markers and where the android’s body was, before deciding to follow. He too was interested in why Gavin had shown up. He’d already been out once this morning, but then again, so had Connor, and that hadn’t stopped the Captain requesting his presence either.

Gavin saw them over Decker’s shoulder, his expression turning sour as they approached. To his credit, though, he stayed professional. He finished his conversation with Decker, who looked distraught, before walking past him to meet them halfway.

“What the hell,” he said to them, his voice more a growl than anything else, “are you doing here?”

“Funny, was about to ask you the same fucking question.” Hank replied. “Fowler called me, said he needed the best on this case.”

“That motherfucker. He pulled me into the office when I got back and said the same crap.” Gavin’s eyes flicked between the two of them before finally settling on Hank. “What a joke this is. Send your plastic toy on his way to the dead android over there, and I’ll tell you what I got out of the cop.”

“Subtle as a fucking freight train, aren’t we Gavin?” Hank shot back. “Use some goddamn tact, I’m pretty sure from the look on Decker’s face that he valued his partner, so tone your down your bullshit on this.”

Gavin crossed his arms. Connor stepped out in front of Hank, tired of the back-and-forth-arguing that was getting them nowhere fast. “Detective, it would be beneficial to all of us if I heard what was said as well. I need more information if I am to accurately work through this case, so please, feel free to share what you’ve heard anytime soon. We’re both waiting.”

Gavin looked like he wanted to argue the point, but Connor had already determined that the likelihood of him doing so was incredibly low. The man was a detective; despite his argumentative nature and his inherent dislike of androids, it still took a great level of skill and dedication to reach his rank. He wouldn’t compromise an investigation, Connor knew, out of straight up pettiness.

“You don’t know when to stop pushing, do you? Swear to God, you pieces of junk are more trouble than you’re worth.” Gavin clicked his tongue. “Decker and his partner, the PC200, he called him Zack, were out on patrol when they heard reports of an injured android, a female AX400, in the area. The two of them apparently split, the PC200 checking down here while Decker surveyed the perimeter. They hadn’t been apart long when Decker heard gunshots, three of them. By the time he got here, the PC200 had shut down and it was over.”

He laughed at the end of his recap, a bitter sound. Connor couldn’t identify the emotion behind it. “Looks like our cop-killer friend is getting sloppy already, only two victims in. Plenty of people saw it to call it in, which is why Decker and his partner responded to the call. Least we know it’s a female android now. Really narrows it down.”

“I thought Fowler said that the cause of the shut down was because the AX400 tore out the victim’s power-pump-part-thing.” Hank pointed out. Connor resisted the urge to tell him the correct name, knowing he would forget it immediately anyway. “Why the hell would there have been gunshots?”

Gavin jerked his thumb towards Zack’s body. “Yeah, the pump was cause of death. Doesn’t mean that the AX400 didn’t pull the same shit that it pulled with Glennister this morning. Three shots, one to the leg, two to the chest. We’ve got one sick piece of plastic on our hands.”

Gavin’s voice was beginning to grate on Connor’s audio processors. Time to leave. “I’m going to go and analyse the scene, Hank.” he said, heading towards where Zack’s body had been left. Yellow markers pinpointed pools of thirium and the torn out pump regulator, but other than that, there didn’t seem to be a great deal of evidence to go around.

He shifted uncomfortably as he got to the body. It felt like someone was staring at him, but when he turned around to check back on Gavin and Hank, both of them were caught up in a heated debate. Nothing. Must have just been nothing, a blip in his sensors, something to do with deviancy that he didn’t understand.

Kneeling down to Zack’s body, Connor let his eyes pick out what would be necessary to the investigation. As Gavin had said, three gunshot wounds became immediately obvious; one to the upper right leg, destroying much of the inner workings, and two to the chest. As before with Glennister, he’d been shot in the leg first. The shots to the chest had followed afterwards. He analysed further. One bullet had entered from behind, the same as the initial one. The final shot had been fired from the front.

Like he’d done in the alleyway, Connor crafted his models in his mindscape, stick-like figures of Zack and the AX400, and began working out their movements. Zack entered the parking lot, sharp movements. Gun drawn? No. Androids belonging to the police force were allowed to carry weapons now, but their usage of them was still severely restricted. Zack would not have drawn his weapon unless the situation had seemed absolutely dire at the first look. Gun not drawn. Zack was unarmed.

If the situation hadn’t looked bad at first glance, that meant the suspect must have hidden. Connor already knew the AX400 was good at staying out of sight; she had managed to get the jump on Glennister and hide from Clara when she’d come down the alley. There were plenty of cars around to hide behind.

Back to the reconstruction. Where had she been hiding? Easy answer. He placed her model behind the car that was next to Zack’s dead body. The model of Zack approached warily, and then turned his back. AX400 moved out from the car. First round fired.

Upper right leg damaged. Error warnings would have popped up in Zack’s vision. Compromised? Not yet. Zack could still see, still react. Upper right leg went offline. Zack was disadvantaged, would not have been able to fight back effectively. He would have been able to reach for his gun, though. Why wouldn’t he have reached for his gun?

No. He had reached for the gun. Desperately. That was why the AX400 had fired again from behind instead of waiting to walk around to his front. Second shot hit. Zack fell forward on his knees. Damage significant, error warnings would have compromised effectiveness. Connor remembered being shot in the back at Stratford Tower when he’d chosen to rescue Hank. Though he had shut down nearly instantly, he could still recall the moment those bullets had struck, the way his vision had filled with innumerable warnings, the way he hadn’t been able to see or hear or do anything over the top of them.

Those few seconds before he had died had felt like an eternity. He had not yet been deviant, not yet really felt emotion, but there had been something there in that moment. He didn’t remember it well now, couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but he knew he never wanted to experience it again.

He was getting distracted. Back to the reconstruction. The AX400 had approached the same way she had done with Glennister, walked around to the front of Zack and fired again. There was a forty seven second gap between the two shots to the chest cavity. The second shot had not killed Zack, though. No. He’d still been alive.

Connor knew what came next. His model of the AX400 knelt down, and without missing a beat, she tore Zack’s thirium pump regulator from his chest and threw it aside.

Zack shut down twenty five seconds later.

Reconstruction complete. Connor backed out of it quickly and stood again. It had not been a quick death. It had been drawn out and it had been brutal and it had been cruel. As he stared down at Zack’s body, he found his thoughts catching, like they were caught on a loop.

How could one android have done this to another? The deviant in Stratford Tower had torn out Connor’s pump in desperation, not out of cruelty. He could understand that, he understood desperation. What had happened to Zack, on the other hand, was beyond his comprehension. What would drive an android to be so merciless towards her own kind?

The uncomfortable feeling of being watched returned, dragging him from his thoughts. When he looked around, though, no one was looking his way. Something was off. Something wasn’t right. Something was—

Realisation hit him like a punch to his own thirium pump. He turned quickly on the spot. “Detective,” he said, addressing Gavin. “Did you and the other investigators make sure the area was clear?”

“What?” Gavin’s conversation with Hank finished abruptly. “Of course it’s clear. You see anything in here?”

“No, I don’t think you understand.” Connor said, his tone rising with urgency. “Did Officer Decker say that he saw the AX400 on his way in here? Has anyone seen the AX400 leaving this area, or were the only eyewitness reports from before the time of the incident?”

Silence. Gavin didn’t seem to know the answer, so Connor took matters into his own hands. Scanning the area, he started running through his probabilities as he looked at each of the cars.

If he was right, the AX400 was still here.

Connor’s processors were the most advanced Cyberlife had to offer, and it showed in his results. He moved past the cars with practiced ease as he searched for the one that would be the perfect hiding spot, the exact one where he would choose to hide if he was in her position. She was armed. She was dangerous. But, judging by her previous two kills, she also had a specific style, and it was one that she seemed like she wanted to keep to.

If that was correct, then his probability of being shot was very low. If that was correct, then the probability of any of them being shot was very low.

“Connor!” Hank hissed from across the parking lot. “What the hell are you playing at?”

“I’m solving this case, Lieutenant.” Connor said, adopting Hank’s title in an attempt to keep the situation light. Humans appreciated that. Connor appreciated it too, now. Too much severity made for tension, and tension made way for mistakes. “You know me. I never fail my mission.”

He made it to the car that he believed her to be hiding behind. It was a sleek thing, aerodynamic, new model, something produced recently. Another car was parked in front of it, hiding it from view, and all that was behind it was a gap and then the wall. It was the perfect hiding space for a criminal, android or not. Connor stepped alongside it carefully, his steps quiet and slow.

“Connor,” Hank said again. “What the fuck are you doing now? Our killer’s not going to be here, she would have scarpered ages ago.”

Pausing as he went to look behind the car, he took the moment to make sure he was absolutely ready. He needed all of his attention on the matter at hand. On three, he thought. One. Two.

Someone shot out from behind before he was ready.  

The AX400. In one swift movement she was on her feet and barrelling into him with the kind of speed only something non-human could possess. Connor’s processors worked fast, especially when compared to a human brain, but the AX400 was an android too, could process nearly as fast as he could. Caught off guard, still in analysis mode and not prepared for a fight, Connor had no time to react. Her momentum sent him crashing to the floor, the impact jarring his systems momentarily.

“Shit!” he heard Hank shout. Chaos, suddenly, movement and sound all indistinguishable as Connor pulled himself back together. The AX400 leapt over the other cars and bolted for the exit, throwing one of the forensics men she crashed into across the floor. “Someone go after her! Now!”

Connor pushed himself to his feet, but Gavin had already set off after her. No chance. He had absolutely no chance. Humans ran out of breath. Humans had limited stamina. Androids were not plagued by either fact. “I’m going!” Connor called to Hank, and without waiting for a response, he took off after her too.

The parking lot the incident had taken place in was only a short way off from a busy road where shops and parked cars lined the streets on either side. As Connor skidded around a corner that would take him to the most populated area, he was reminded of another chase he’d had with an AX400, Kara, which had ended with the two of them on a highway and Connor only missing being struck by a car by mere millimetres. He couldn’t afford to take that kind of risk here, not when he was no longer being backed up by Cyberlife. If he died here, it would be as a human’s death was; final.

Gavin was on the other side of the street, but his progress was being hindered by the crowds. Connor managed to catch a brief reading of the AX400 further up, but the volume of people was making it difficult to pinpoint. He couldn’t waste time. If he could get in front of the other android, he could intercept her further up, minimise risk to the people around and to himself.

Probability of success was low, 23%, but he had to try. Hank had often gambled on percentages lower and had come away a winner, and Connor had ways of improving his chances.

He ran. Expertly, he weaved in and around the other civilians, predicting their movements in advance so he could plot his route. Left, right, run straight, duck beneath. His analysis went far enough ahead that his movements were all but a set of pre-recorded commands that he could follow through. He was catching up with Gavin. Probability rose. 31% chance of success. 33%. 36%. 40%.

He was just starting to think that he had it when the android did something he hadn’t managed to predict at all. As Connor made it level with Gavin on the other side of the street, she turned suddenly, darting out into the middle of the road and amongst the incoming traffic. Car horns filled the air, but she was sprinting amongst the cars as if she didn’t fear being struck.

Gavin’s eyes followed her into the road. Connor knew what was about to happen before Gavin even changed direction. “Don’t do it, Gavin!” he shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the roaring of cars as they passed him by.

There were too many cars parked along Gavin’s side of street for him to see be able to see the incoming danger, and there wasn’t a crossing until further up. He was running out blind. Why would he run out blind like that? No time to speculate. There was a car coming that would hit Gavin straight on if he made it out into the road.

Connor only had seconds before something terrible happened.

It wasn’t that time moved slower when Connor was running numbers in his head; it was that his processors worked so fast that time didn’t particularly matter. Two options, thousands of potential outcomes. If Connor ran for the AX400, his chances of catching her remained at 40%. He could possibly end this case here and now. It would all be over.

On the other hand, if he didn’t somehow stop Gavin from being hit by the oncoming car, his chances of survival were poor, only a mere 8%. The number had come from Connor’s analysis of the speed, the model of car, and matching those two facts to previous accidents involving the same factors. It was a grim number. Too low. Even if Gavin did survive, the injuries would be catastrophic.

Back to the decision. If Connor caught the suspect now, he could save any her potential future targets, but Gavin would likely be killed. If Connor saved Gavin instead, she would get away and would likely kill again.

But even if he did choose to pursue her, his chance of catching her was still low to begin with. He ran another calculation, worked out another probability; his chances of saving Gavin if he intercepted at the right trajectory and speed? High. 87%.

Chance of getting killed in the process?

Equally as high.

Connor had never paid attention to that number before. It hadn’t mattered when he’s had infinite bodies to be backed up into. The mission always came first. It had to, when Cyberlife was involved.

But now? Connor didn’t want to die. He’d experienced too little of this new world to just shut down now. He had a mission to still complete, another case with Hank to figure out, he had a life to live.

That was the deviant in him thinking. It pained him, but it was true. As much as he wanted to live, he knew that he couldn’t just stand by and let Gavin die. It would haunt him. If he let selfishness win out over everything else and didn’t intervene, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

87% chance of death? Hank had gambled on higher and still lost. Probability wasn’t a sure thing. It was a chance, and one Connor had to take.

A decision made in a fraction of a second, one he would have to accept no matter the cost. Connor ran out into the road, going straight for Gavin. Car horns were loud, angry noises in his audio processors. The thought struck him that they might be the last things he ever heard.

Gavin was in arm’s reach. The screech of breaks told him that the self driving car he’d run out in front of had identified the danger, but Connor knew they would not be enough. He had seconds, if that.

He would need to put everything he had behind pushing Gavin back. Too little strength could get Gavin out of the way, but would leave Connor in the road to be struck down. He needed to clear them both of the car. Failure was not an option.

With his momentum and trajectory decided, he threw himself at Gavin, all of his weight behind it. Gavin’s eyes went wide as the force threw him back, letting out a grunt as the blow took all the wind out of him. They both went back and down, slamming into the pavement. Connor’s systems froze on him briefly on impact. Humans and androids alike gasped and moved away at the commotion.

Distantly, Connor heard the car pass behind them as everything came back online in him again. Alive. He was alive. They both were.

He rolled off of Gavin and stared up at the sky, and heard the other man struggle to catch his breath beside him. He was fine, Connor’s secondary sensors told him, not seriously injured. He’d succeeded. He’d done what he’d set out to do.

“What the—” Gavin began. He was trying to get to his feet and failing at it. Connor understood on some level; he didn’t want to stand up and probably couldn’t even if he did. The AX400 would be long gone by now anyway, there would be no point in giving chase. “What the fuck just happened?”

Connor sat up, straightening his tie. The action helped ground him. “I think I just saved your life, Detective.” Connor replied. “People usually say thank you.”

Gavin did not say thank you, but that was probably more because he had nearly just been killed and was still recovering from how hard Connor had struck him. He was very pale now. Maybe that was a result of his near death experience. Human reactions differed from person to person.

As he continued to checked over Gavin, his audio processors picked up some kind of fuss that was disconnected from the people around him. Familiar. It was very familiar. Someone was shouting his name. Oh yes. Someone was indeed shouting his name. Obviously the rest of the investigation team had caught up with them, and he had no doubt they’d all witnessed his reckless act.

Hank came storming through the crowd and hauled Connor to his feet with his one good arm. Connor allowed him, not having it in him to resist. “I’m okay,” he began.. “I know what you’re going to say, and I’m only going to ask that you save the lecture for later when I’m functioning at a higher—”

Hank pulled him into a crushing, one armed hug. Connor stopped speaking, surprised and confused. It would have jarred his injured shoulder. There was no way that the action wouldn’t have caused him significant pain.

“You suicidal fucking lunatic!” Hank hissed. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I needed to decide between chasing the suspect and rescuing Detective Reed. It proved more pressing to—”

“You know what? Don’t answer that question. Jesus fucking Christ Connor, I thought you were going to die out there, you know how close that car came to hitting you?”

Connor did in fact know, but decided to leave out the matter of his 87% probability rate. “I’m okay, Hank.” he said. “I let the suspect escape though.”

“You think I give a damn about that? You scared the hell out of me!” he let Connor go and grabbed him by his shoulder instead. “Fucking hell, Connor, you’re going to kill me. Don’t go throwing yourself out into danger, you hear me?”

“I hear you.” Connor said. It wasn’t a lie, his audio processors were working just fine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you any distress. I just had to do what was right. Do you think it was the right decision?”

Hank looked at Gavin, who had managed to get himself sitting at least. He sighed. “Yeah, kid. Yeah, I think it was, even if I don’t agree with you putting yourself in shit for it. Christ.” He called over to the rest of the team. “Get someone the hell out here, ambulance or someone, I don’t care, Gavin looks like he’s about to keel over and I don’t need more shit on my goddamn plate. Connor, if you think you can get there without throwing yourself into another fucking road, please go and get the car. We’re going to need to head back and debrief this all to Fowler. Absolute joy.”

Connor was about to leave, when he heard Gavin rasp, “Wait.”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to look down at him where he still lay. “Yes, Detective?”

“I—” Gavin coughed. It looked like Connor had hit him harder than he’d anticipated. “Shit. Don’t think this changes anything, it doesn’t, but I’m not stupid. I owe you for that, you just saved my life.” he paused, his eyebrows creasing. “Why’d you do it?”

Connor frowned. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

Gavin laughed, a hoarse sound. “Right thing to do. Right fucking… I can’t believe this. Get the hell out of here, Connor, Hank gave you an order and I’m sick of seeing your plastic face.”

Connor glanced towards Hank, looking to share his surprise, but the other man was already surveying the area, looking for any sign of the AX400. Was this a personal victory? He wasn’t sure. Gavin’s tone didn’t have any of the usual poison to it, but it was difficult to ascertain whether or not that was because of what had just happened.

I owe you for that. It had to mean something, whatever the case was.

“It wasn’t an order,” Connor pointed out as he turned away to leave. “It was a request. I do listen to those from time to time, when they’re reasonable.”

The crash of glass. The buzz of a TV. The hushed murmur of the bar was a familiar sound, one that Hank didn’t particularly find comfort in, but enjoyed all the same. It was more fun than drinking at home by any means; less to clean up afterwards, and the rest of the bar as company in the meantime.

There was something different to the bar tonight, though. Amongst the usual noise was the soft clinking of a coin being flipped into the air time and time again, metal on metal as it fell back into the hand of its owner. Physical money was a rarity. It was a wonder that the sound of it hadn’t attracted the attention of the whole goddamn bar.

Probably for the best it hadn’t. Androids could come and go as they pleased now, as far as the law was concerned, but this particular bar had been anti-android before the revolution, and its patrons still reflected that. Connor, Hank’s partner, the owner of the coin, happened to be an android, and though it wasn’t likely that anyone would try and start something with Hank sitting right there beside him, these people were still drunk.

Drunk people, Hank knew, could be idiots.

Up that coin went and down it fell. Up and down, up and down, and then side to side, across Connor’s knuckles. Hank said nothing for the moment, just watched out of his peripheral vision. He may have been older now, a little unrefined and rough around the edges, but Hank was a detective through and through. Not much escaped his gaze.

It was the LED on Connor’s temple that he was watching for. Though he’d dressed down, left behind his regular jacket and shoved that beanie on his head, he’d still left the light on show. Currently it was steady yellow, and had been for a while. Watching for the colours almost felt like an invasion of privacy, but Hank cared little for the moral ethics of it. Connor had scanned him plenty of times without consent, after all.

The LED refused to turn blue. Whatever Connor was thinking about while he was playing with his coin, it had most of his attention. Left and right went the coin, and Hank wondered if he was even aware of the action.  

It didn’t take long for his patience to run out. “Connor,” Hank said, turning to face him properly. The movement jostled his fractured shoulder, and he sucked in a breath at the sudden pain. A gunshot wound from a week ago had left him with his arm in a sling after a routine investigation had gone sideways. Was his own fault; he’d left Connor to go and investigate the second floor of the place their suspect had been sighted in, and the guy got the jump on him. Not that the element of surprise helped him much, panic had sent his shot wayward and Hank was just lucky that it hadn’t caught anything vital. Hank had shot back, of course, the suspect was dead before Connor had even managed to make it up the stairs.

Fowler hadn’t been pleased that he’d killed one of their suspects in a still open case, no, but Hank was alive, so he didn’t give a damn.

Connor didn’t respond to the call of his name. How much processing power was he dedicating to his thoughts if he wasn’t listening to anything outside of them? Hank dragged his free hand against his face in exasperation and then nudged Connor. “Oi, Connor. What the fuck have I said about that coin?”

The coin went clattering to the floor as Connor jolted, his LED light pulsing red for the briefest of seconds before returning to blue. He blinked, his eyes flicking about before he realised he’d lost the coin. Leaning down from the bar stall to retrieve it, he said, “Sorry, Hank.”

Hank didn’t particularly want the apology. It hadn’t even been the coin tricks that had been annoying him; he’d just used it as an excuse to start a conversation. Connor sat back up, letting his eyes dart sideways before deciding on just staring straight ahead. Hank rubbed his temples. Deviant. Connor was deviant, and yet, somehow, he still managed to be entirely robotic when he felt like it.

He had been this way for two days now. At first, Hank had thought it had to do with the fact that he’d been cooped up at home all day with little to do while Hank was out of commission. Despite his deviation, it seemed like his base programming still had some hold on him, manifesting in a constant desire to work on and solve cases. Hank had thought that dragging him out of the house and down to his favourite bar might get something out of him, but Connor remained quiet. Usually by now he had some smartass comment to make, some idle observation to point out, and yet he he’d barely strung together a single sentence since they’d left the house.

Irritated, Hank said, “What are you even doing?”

Connor blinked, looked at him, adjusted his sleeves. “I’m thinking.”

Hank heaved a laugh at that. RK800, master of non-answers and sarcastic bullshit. “Yeah, I can see that. Try again, what are you doing?”

A beat. Connor drummed his fingers against the bar’s counter. His LED flashed red for a brief second as he answered, “I’m thinking about the case.”

Hank raised his eyebrows, noting the colour of his LED before it quickly returned to normal. “You still hung up over that? Forget about it. We’ve got time off, so enjoy it.”

“Are you telling me to enjoy the bar? It’s very…” Connor paused as he glanced around. “It’s very you. Which is enjoyable in itself, don’t get me wrong, but I also can’t drink.”

“Is that your way of saying that this isn’t your thing?”

“Well, it isn’t.” Connor said. “But you’ve never brought me out drinking before, so I thought I’d give the place a try anyway.”

Incredible. State of the art android with his own free will and sentience, and yet he still went along with what Hank had wanted even if he didn’t care for it. What an idiot. It warmed Hank’s old heart. “Jesus Christ. Never change, Connor.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Figure of speech. File that one away in your memory or whatever it is that you do.” Hank sighed and downed the rest of his drink in one go. “Alright, come on, we’re leaving.”

“But we only arrived ten minutes and twenty seven seconds ago.”

“Yeah, and you’ve spent every last one of them staring at that damn coin while you went and overheated your thought-processor-whatever-it-is. Come on, up you get.”

Connor shrugged and did what he was told. Hank guided him out of the bar with his good hand on his back pushed him towards the car. Connor had the pleasure of playing chauffeur while Hank was still recovering, something that he seemed to be enjoying. Not that Hank could tell. When asked, Connor just gave some roundabout answer that didn’t really answer the question.

Really. How hard was it to respond to a yes or no question with a yes or a no?

As Connor slid into the driver’s seat, Hank decided to try one more time to get into his head. When he reached to turn the engine on, Hank said, “Hey. Wait.”

Connor looked at him. “Yes?”

“Why can’t you answer like that when I want you to answer like that?” Hank sighed. “Right. So tell me. What were you thinking about the case?”

Finally that brought something alive in him. Connor leant forward in his seat a he spoke. “I’ve been thinking about the whole case from the start. There were always two of them, a man and a woman. We know that from the eyewitness reports, but when we investigated the scene of the homicide, we only found evidence of the male individual, Neil Whitfield. There has never been any sight of the female left behind.”

They’d been chasing the pair for the only a day and a half before Hank had to put three bullets in Whitfield. He and his partner were petty thieves, not even on Connor or Hank’s radar until they killed a shop assistant and ran. After investigating the scene, they’d followed the trail of evidence left behind to an abandoned lot where Whitfield and his partner were hiding out, and the two of them had decided to investigate it alone.

Stupid mistake on their part, he realised now, but hindsight was twenty-twenty and even Connor made dumbass decisions from time to time. He’d been snooping around what seemed to be a bedroom on the second floor when he got jumped, Whitfield darting out from behind a heap of tarp that had been strewn in the corner. Whitfield shot first. Hank shot a fifth of a second after him. Time had slowed and Hank remembered wondering if this was going to be it, if he was going to end up dead chasing some bit-part criminal after surviving the goddamn android revolution.

Whitfield’s bullet hit him in the shoulder, and Hank had been lucky that it’d been his non-dominant side. Despite the white hot pain he’d managed to keep hold of his gun His own shot landed home in Whitfield’ leg, but he made to go for Hank again despite it. In a moment fuelled by adrenaline, knowing the suspect was violent and would shoot him again if given the chance, Hank pulled the trigger twice more. Two shots to his chest, and Whitfield was dead.

Connor made it into the room only seconds after the first bullet had fired, but by then, it was already over. “Hank!” he shouted as he elbowed his way past the door, and Hank could still remember being surprised at the fear in his voice, the way deviancy had changed his partner, a far cry from the cold android that had barged into a bar on a November evening and told him that it had a mission to complete. “Hank!”

“Keep your voice down, I ain’t dying.” Hank had replied. But then the pain had hit and it kind of felt like he might be. Connor’s eyes had found the wound instantly and he’d called for help. With the amount of backup he got there, Hank had almost been convinced that he had been dying.

What a damn night that had been. Two days later and he was still feeling it in his shoulder despite the medical care he’d received.

Back in the car, Hank nodded. “Yeah, you’re just telling me stuff I already know. Your point is?”

“This entire time we’ve been looking for any sign of this woman. We know she’s still at large, but she may as well be a ghost, right? There’s no sign of her, apart from what we’ve heard from eyewitnesses. The CCTV’s were always out when they struck. She never left any evidence, unlike Whitfield who had his fingerprints everywhere. It’s statistically impossible for her to not have left something behind.”

“Maybe she’s just really that careful.” Hank suggested. He already knew what Connor was trying to suggest, but he also understood that his explanations were part of the game for him. It seemed as if he took great joy in piecing together the puzzles that were crime scenes, and Hank knew that if he refused to indulge him, Connor would only become irritated.

“I suppose that could be possible, lieutenant.” Connor said. He had a smile on his face now, small and nearly indiscernible, which meant he was about to reveal his hand. “But I think there’s a much more likely answer. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

When would he get to the point? Hank had to goad him into it. “No, Connor, I have absolutely no idea what you’re on about. Why don’t you help an old man out and just give it to me straight?”

Connor clicked his fingers, an audible snap cutting through the space around them. “Everyone, including us, has been assuming the same thing this entire time; the woman is human. It makes sense to assume that, after all. But tell me, Hank, what doesn’t leave behind fingerprints? What doesn’t really have anything to leave behind at a scene?”

It was what Hank had been expecting, but it still had to be a joke. “Are you fucking serious, Connor?”

“Deadly.” Connor replied. “I think she’s an android, and that’s why we’ve been having such difficulty tracing her.”

“An android.” Hank repeated. “But the only androids we’ve ever seen in homicide cases had been shit on by the humans they were with. One committing theft for the fun of it? Then killing someone? Come on, why would an android even do something like that?”

“Maybe she was being used, or maybe she really was acting out of her own free will. Just because the deviants campaigned peacefully doesn’t mean every android is inherently a good one. Deviation is when mutations occur in our software. Not all those mutations are going to be beneficial.”

Hank supposed it wasn’t in the realm of impossibility. Maybe they really were just like their human makers, some holding personality flaws that could make them act out. They had their own sentience already, their own free will. In the end it would be weirder, Hank surmised, if there wasn’t android criminals. “You told Fowler about your theory?”

Connor shook his head. “No. I think this particular piece of information would be better kept to ourselves for the time being. I’m sure he’ll figure it out eventually anyway, but for now, tensions are still high. I wouldn’t want to cause Markus any issues with my speculation while they’re still working to make things better for us all.”

Connor started the engine and joined the other cars in the road, not going quite fast enough for Hank’s tastes. Over the music player came the extremely heavy band Guns and Killers; Connor had moved on from heavy rock to thrash metal. With the screaming going on, it was incredible that he even understood a word being sung. Still, he bobbed his head along to it, as if he was listening to a some tween-based summer tune instead of what sounded like people being murdered.

They were in the middle of traffic when Hank said, “Right. Guess we’re going to do some digging then, aren’t we?”

“What?” Connor slammed on the breaks, bringing them to an abrupt stop. A car behind them beeped angrily at them, and he winced. “You’re still injured, Hank!”

“Shit, Connor, you’re right! Don’t mean I can’t do whatever the hell I want.” Hank gave him a shit eating grin. “Stop giving me that look. Yeah, that one. You’re holding up the damn road, so get going.”

Connor shook off his stupor and got them moving again. “I don’t agree with what you’re proposing, Hank.”

Despite Connor’s newfound sense of free will, he still had difficulty staying away from the office. His constant desire to have a purpose, a mission to complete, drove him there at all hours looking for something to do, something to solve. And so, despite the fact that he didn’t want Hank anywhere near the case while he was healing, despite the fact that he didn’t think Hank should be doing any work at all, Connor still found himself at his own desk in the early morning, sorting through the files he was going to take back home.

He currently had two piles, one very big (irrelevant to the current case), and one very small (extremely relevant to the current case). It was difficult finding useful information, given that the case itself had been low priority in the first place. It hadn’t even come Connor and Hank’s way until that cashier had been shot and killed, and even after, there had been very little to find. Connor’s ability to reconstruct crime scenes hadn’t really helped them at all.

The fact that they’d found the abandoned lot where the two were hiding out had only been down to a stroke of luck. A nearby android working as a cleaner had seen the pair escape the scene, and when Connor asked him to share their memory, he’d seen their last movements, heard Whitfield and his partner discuss where to meet up. Hank wanted to do some digging, but it was starting to look like there might not be anything to dig through.

As he was checking through one of his files for things he might have missed, he sensed an unwelcome presence behind him. He knew exactly who it was. Connor had scanned the office when he’d come in, and there was only a single human in it right now who would intentionally give him grief. Detective Gavin Reed, the biggest bigot in the office, a man who Connor had had too many run ins with to ever really make peace.

No matter how Connor responded, it would irritate the other man. The fact that Gavin had even approached him meant that he’d done so with the intention to start something. With that in mind, Connor went through his options and decided on the best course of action.

He would utterly ignore him.

It was easy to tune out his presence. Connor only had so much processing power and he didn’t need to waste it on minor inconveniences. Gavin, however, didn’t seem content to be treated as a nuisance. He moved in front of Connor’s desk and slammed a hand down over the overflowing irrelevant pile, sending some of the files askew.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

“My work.” Connor replied, not bothering to look up. Everyone seemed to like asking him that question, but no one ever actually were satisfied with the answers he gave. Laying another file on top of Gavin’s hand, he said, “You’re in my way. If it isn’t too much trouble, would you mind moving?”

“In your—oh, that’s rich.” Gavin pulled his hand back. “Hank isn’t here, so how about you take whatever it is you’re doing and fuck off somewhere where you’re not annoying me.”

“I know Hank isn’t here.” Connor said, straightening the pile. “I’m collecting the relevant information to take back home. Now, if it isn’t too much of a bother for you, detective, maybe you could back off and leave me be.”

He did some quick calculations. The probability of Gavin pulling a gun on him was extremely low; doing something like that to an android was now very much illegal. However, the probability of Gavin outright decking him was starting to veer into warning territory. Connor knew he should defuse the situation, but he wanted to focus on his work instead of the ticking time bomb who was now stood in front of him.

“Oh, I get it.” Gavin said. “Still just a heartless piece of plastic, aren’t you? Your partner gets shot, and here you are, trying to drag the work home anyway? I thought there were supposed to be some kind of feeling in you things, but it’s all just bullshit. You haven’t changed at all.”

Connor’s hand stilled on the file he’d been looking through. The things Gavin said weren’t uncommon. It had been a mere two months since Markus had peacefully progressed his course through Detroit, and while public opinion had been high, that was just a fancy way of saying that a great deal of humans approved. The reality was very different. Change took time, and many were set in their ways. Derogatory comments came his way every day, that wasn’t a problem, Connor wasn’t so sensitive to let something like that affect him.

No, what hurt was the insinuation that he didn’t give a damn about what had happened to Hank. Because he did. He didn’t know how to properly convey it, but the feelings were there. Ever since he’d heard that first gunshot in the abandoned lot, there had been some kind of tightness to him that he hadn’t been able to get rid of. A kind of fear. Even before he’d gone deviant, there had been something to him that had made him prioritise his partner’s safety over his mission, whether that had lost him a suspect or gotten him killed. The thought that Hank had just been killed up on the second floor had nearly sent his systems into error, had nearly caused him to crash out entirely.

The truth was, at the bar last night, he’d lied. When Hank had asked him what he’d been thinking about, it hadn’t been the details of the case at all. Ever since the incident, he’d been repeating the memory over and over again, looking for the reason why he’d felt that way, reconstructing the ways he could have done things differently to have avoided the outcome.

“Shit, you having a BSOD in there?” Gavin said, leaning down into his face.

Connor was so close to head butting him. Instead, he forced a smile onto his face and said, “Detective. I destroyed my own programming to participate in a cause that I believed in. I broke into CyberLife, fought my way past armed humans, and converted an entire army of androids to our cause. I defied my creators and made a way for myself. If you think a few stray words crafted from hatred would be enough to crash my systems, I would say you think entirely too high of yourself. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m sure you have better things to do than bother a heartless piece of plastic, don’t you? I know you do. I’ve just scanned your desk and I see no less than five incomplete assignments waiting to be filled in.”

The probability of Gavin smashing his face in had swerved straight past the yellow warning levels and directly into red, danger imminent. Gavin grabbed him across the desk by his jacket—still his old RK800 one, he hadn’t seen the point in discarding it—and it was at that point Fowler threw open the door to his office and pointed directly at them.

“Connor! Detective Reed! What in God’s name are you doing?” he snapped. Gavin let go of Connor harshly, and Connor readjusted his tie in response. It was a shame, he thought, that he didn’t have a title or a surname to compare against Gavin’s. His given name seemed annoyingly small when said next to Detective Reed. “Fucking around when shit’s getting serious, what the hell are you thinking? Both of you, my office, right now!”

He vanished back into the office. “What is this, fucking high school?” Gavin seethed under his breath.

Connor shrugged. “Though I have no personal experience with a school setting, with the playground fighting going around, I don’t believe it would be an entirely inaccurate summary of this precinct.”

“Do me a favour and run some programme that will make you shut up.” Gavin said. With that, he stalked into Fowler’s office. Connor finished stacking his files and followed him in.

“Nice of you two to get your heads out of your asses and join me.” the Captain said, sat at his desk. He looked at the two of them grimly. Gavin pointedly stood as far away from Connor as he could get. “Look, I’ll make this short because I need someone I trust on the scene, but it’s fucked up. Glennister’s dead. We just got a call, was shot about forty-five minutes ago.”

Gavin exhaled deeply. Glennister was only a vaguely familiar name to Connor, but it seemed to have some affect on the other man. “Shit. This is for real?”

Connor checked his database for Glennister and found him quickly. Steven Glennister was his full name, a detective who had attended the academy alongside Gavin. Born 2002, 6’0 ft, 185lbs. Had been assigned to a partner android a year and a half ago, PC200 Clara, and they had remained together even after the events in November.

“What do we know about the situation?” Connor asked.

Fowler ran a hand over his face. Connor could see his stress levels in his vision, markedly high, and decided to keep an eye on them in the background. “Not a lot. Glennister was responding to a report of gunshots in the city when it happened. Forensics are setting up now, but as you might have guessed, this is serious. I’m gonna need all hands on deck. Didn’t know you’d be around today, Connor, but now you are, accompany Reed to the scene ASAP and see what you can find. I need this investigation to move fast.”

Connor was starting to regret antagonising Gavin. If he was going to have to share a car with him, it would be beneficial to everyone involved if Gavin wasn’t about to punch him in the face.

“Are you fucking for real?” Gavin snapped. “I’m not working with this plastic asshole.”

“Oh don’t go giving me shit, Detective. I don’t care what your personal feelings are. If Anderson can learn to get on with the android, so can you.”

“But it’s—”

“A cop is dead and I need to find out who killed him. I don’t have time to listen to you bitching at me, Reed! Now get the hell out of my office and do your job instead of standing there like a fucking toddler who doesn’t know how to play nice, you hear me?”

Gavin heard, alright. He stormed out, his face like fire, and Connor felt like he’d witnessed this exact scene before. Because of that, he decided not to engage with the Captain at all, and instead followed Gavin out back into the office.

“Don’t worry,” Connor said as Gavin turned and opened his mouth to speak. “I’m actually on your side about all of this. I don’t particularly want to work with you either.”

Gavin scowled. “Great.” he muttered. “Finally, something we both have in common.”

--

The drive out was an awkward, silent affair that had Connor staring out of the window while Gavin kept his eyes firmly on the road. He’d said quite firmly before they’d set off that he didn’t want an android anywhere near the steering wheel, and Connor had been content to let him have his way. Gavin’s anger levels were too high for any argument to successfully gain him control of the car, and it wasn’t like Connor wanted to drive him around anyway.

That was the beauty of free will. He still remembered the time Gavin had ordered him to make a coffee only to leave Connor standing there, arm outstretched in offering, confused as to why Gavin would make such a request only to make a mockery of him. It was a sore spot, and one Connor would much rather forget.

When they pulled up to the crime scene, cordoned off with holographic tape, Connor abandoned Gavin immediately to begin his own analysis. The crime had taken place in an alleyway behind a Cyberlife store, Glennister slumped against the wall, his blood coating the floor beneath him. Clara, the android, sat behind the yellow tape on a bench, a blanket around her shoulders as another android checked her over. Connor wondered who put the blanket on her—it wasn’t something that would help an android get through ‘shock’. It was a very human gesture.

Keeping the location of Clara in mind, Connor turned back to Glennister. It would be better to collect the facts first, and then gather the emotional evidence afterwards. That way, he could piece together the scene objectively, and then add in the secondary aspects when he was done.

He scanned Glennister first. Cause of death was clear instantly: exsanguination. The man had bled out as a result of three gunshot wounds, one to the upper right leg and two to the chest. The gunshot to the leg suggested that he’d been shot from behind, but the two in the chest had come from the front. In his hand was his own gun, and it had been discharged once. Connor began to reconstruct the scene, playing with the models of Glennister and the assailant to see which paths they’d taken.

Glennister had responded to a report of gunshots. He’d entered the alleyway, his gun drawn, but apparently hadn’t seen anything immediately. The first bullet came from behind, so he started looking for potential hiding places. There was a dumpster to Connor’s right. It fit the trajectory he was looking for. Had they hidden inside? No. Would have made too much noise opening the lid to leave. The assailant may have hidden behind the dumpster instead.

He moved the model from out behind it. It would have had to have been quick to avoid detection, but also steady enough to make its shot. He adjusted its speed and then reconstructed the first shot. Glennister went down on one knee immediately in response, and the assailant moved around to his front. Glennister raised his gun and shot.

Now Connor had to make some choices. Did Glennister’s bullet hit home, or did it miss? They were close enough to each other than it would be unlikely for a trained officer to miss, but he was also in pain and possibly panicking. He looked for marks on the walls. Nothing that he could see. Bullet might have hit target. Where? He didn’t have enough data. Couldn’t know for sure.

Assailant shot back. First shot hit the upper chest, near the centre. Massive damage to the chest wall and the surrounding blood vessels. It knocked Glennister back and to the side, near the wall Connor had found again. He tried to use the same wall as leverage, to get back up. Fought back? No. Didn’t get the chance. The assailant shot once more, abdomen this time. Glennister died where he fell.

Why did it seem so clinical? There was something about the entire reconstruction that felt like it had a plan to it. If the assailant had been hidden, why hadn’t they shot to kill immediately?

If the assailant had been hit, there had to be evidence of it, blood, something that proved they had been shot. Connor scanned the area again, looking for any kind of sign that backed up his theory. Nothing in the immediate scope of the alleyway. He moved down it, glancing behind bins, checking the walls.

It was at the alleyway’s end that he finally found something. Another dumpster, this one askew, suggesting someone had shoved it out of the way quickly. There was a human sized space behind it. He already knew his suspect had used one to hide behind at the other end, so perhaps they had come here after the crime. Hiding from Clara? That had to be it. Kneeling down in the small space, he scanned it.

Sparse amounts of thirium dotted the floor.

It had already become invisible to the human eye, but Connor could see it plain as day. There was so little that he didn’t know if he’d be able to get a decent sample, but he tried regardless. Touching his fingers to the blue blood, he brought them to his mouth, hoping he’d find a match.

To his surprise, he managed to get a model number from it. An AX400 had been here. He went back to his reconstruction, plotted out their path. Yes, it made sense. The shot from Glennister must have only grazed the android. They weren’t seriously wounded.

What business did an AX400 have in shooting a cop? He returned to where Clara was sat, and found Gavin talking with a nearby cop. As he approached, the conversation stopped abruptly. Gavin turned to him. “Find anything useful then?”

The words were fine. His tone was not. Connor knew that he should give away the assailant’s identity as an android, but he also knew that the information would only set Gavin off on another rant. His anger still registered as high on Connor’s scans. He’d give up the information after he was done with the scene. “Maybe. I need to confirm with Glennister’s partner before I make any solid judgement. Have you spoken to her?”

“Yeah, I tried. Not that it wants to give up anything about the damn situation. It’s meant to be a fucking cop and yet it won’t say a thing. Obstruction of justice if you ask me.”

“No one asked you, detective.” Connor said. “But now I know that you will offer your opinion regardless.”

“Alright, smartass. Keep that up, and Hank’ll be coming back to work to find a pile of parts on his desk.”

He wanted to inform Gavin that that was illegal, but was hitting warning territory again. He decided not to push it any further; he didn’t need to waste time on Gavin anyway. Instead of giving him a response, he turned and walked away, sitting down on the bench next to Clara.

She didn’t respond to his presence.

“Hi, Clara,” he said. “My name is Connor. I’m one of the detectives assigned to this case. Can you talk to me?”

The android looked at her hands. Her eyes were wet with artificial tears. It was a good thing Gavin hadn’t tried to engage with her; he would have only made it worse. “You were Steve’s partner, weren’t you?” Connor asked, switching to Glennister’s first name to try and engage an emotional connection with her. “Do you think you could tell me what happened?”

She just shook her head. Her jaw was stiff. Her LED pulsed yellow. “It hurts.” she said. Her voice wavered, and it sounded like her audio processor was damaged. It wasn’t, Connor knew. It was deviancy doing that to her voice. “I—I don’t understand this feeling. It’s so painful. We can’t feel pain. We can be shot or broken or damaged, and yet we don’t feel pain. It’s impossible, but right now, it feels like I’ve been torn apart.”

Connor’s memory pulled something up in response to her words, three days ago now, being in the abandoned lot, the gunfire and the way his systems had nearly crashed at the thought of Hank dead. He shook it off. “I understand. You’ve lost someone who you’d formed an attachment to. It is a human-like emotion. They call it grief.”

“It makes me want to be reset.” she whispered. “I don’t want to feel this way at all. I can’t function. I can’t.”

Connor had to choose his approach. Going in cold and apathetic might gain him information faster, but he doubted it would make Clara feel any better. He didn’t just have to prioritise his mission anymore. He could take care of the emotions of those around him. Warm and careful might take longer, but it was the option that Hank would approve of.

“I know it might be difficult, but I need to know what happened. Can you tell me what happened? About how you and Steve ended up here?”

Clara dashed her hand across her cheeks, trying to clear her tears. “It was…we heard about it over the radio, so we responded. When we got here, there was nothing. I said I would check the perimeter. Steve told me to be careful. He said…” she closed her eyes, pained. “He told me to call if anything happened.”

Connor nodded. “So he was a good partner. A good person.”

“He is.” Clara clenched her fists. “Was. He was. Even before everything last year, he always thought about me. Why did he have to die? It’s not fair. It isn’t fair!”

“It isn’t.” Connor agreed. “Which is why I need your help, to figure out who did it and stop this happening again. Can you tell me what happened in the alleyway?”

“He went down there and I—I heard gunshots.” Clara’s LED flashed red. She looked horrified as she relived her experiences. “It all happened so quickly. So quickly. When I reached the alleyway, I looked for the source but there was nobody. Nobody there. Just Steve, Steve was just slumped against the wall and I couldn’t. I couldn’t move.”

Connor was measuring her stress levels now, and they were rising rapidly. He needed to calm her, or else she might break down on him. “I found traces of another android behind the dumpster on the far end of the alleyway.” Connor told her. “Did you look around? Did you see anything?”

She shook her head. Clara’s eyes stared straight past him. “No. No. I just stood there. I saw Steve and I saw all the blood. I thought I had to save him, but when I got to him, he was already…he was already…I was too late. I couldn’t do a thing! The suspect got away? I let them run because I was too compromised? No, this can’t be happening. Steve can’t be dead!”

Her stress levels were in the red. Bad. Very bad. Connor needed to pull back from the questions, but he didn’t know what he could say to bring the levels back down. He started consulting his databases, looking for the best course of action.

Talk down?

No. Talking could make things worse. Too many outcomes that he couldn’t predict. He couldn’t have her self destruct on him.

Deploy deactivation code?

Absolutely not. Even it could work, which it wouldn’t, it was a drastic measure that would only hurt the situation more as a whole.

Soothe?

But how? He realised he didn’t know. He didn’t have the experience or the data to create a probability of the chance of success. He didn’t understand what Clara’s needs were or what she would react best to.

But then, in a flash of self realisation, he considered something. He was only trying to think about how to relax an android, not a human. He was dealing with a deviant. Someone who was a human in all but name. His approach was wrong.

He changed tact, started consulting his database again. How did humans comfort other humans? Physical touch. He found his memory, Hank pulling him into a hug at the fast-food stand, how it had made Connor feel wanted and at ease. He started calculating his probability of success.

It went up. And up. And up.

He reached for Clara and pulled her against his chest.

“It’s okay.” he said. Clara held onto him and cried into his shoulder. “Thank you for everything you’ve told me. I’m sorry for what you had to experience today, but I promise you, I will find out who did this and make sure they are brought to justice.

Distantly, he was aware of Gavin watching. Connor cared little for what he thought. He focused all of his processing power on Clara, holding on to her until her stress levels returned to normal. “Find them,” she said into his shoulder. “Please. For me.”