Chapter Text
January 31 st 2039
PM 1:25
“ A lawyer.”
“Yes.”
“Really. A lawyer. For real. Like an actual, real in the flesh lawyer.”
“Androids don’t have flesh. We’re made of…”
“Do I look like I give a shit?”
“Unfortunately, you don’t ever look like you give a shit.”
“Oh I’m sorry mister ‘I don’t care about android lives at all which is exactly why I started helping out with self-defense classes’. I forgot, you’re the expert on not giving a shit, right.”
“They’re not self-defense classes, it’s combat training. And I’m not helping out, I’m providing intel because next to Connor and those Myrmidon elite prototypes, I’m the only model left who knows these very specific…”
“You just enjoy getting your ass kicked by that woman. Admit it.”
“She wouldn’t stand a chance against me if I applied all of my processing power during combat. Which I don’t. Because she’s merely a pleasure model and I’m a highly specialized prototype.”
“Pleasure model. Aha. Now we’re getting there.”
“No. Unlike her, I’m incapable of engaging in any sort of sexual activity, and even if I were, I feel the need to remind you that she was forced into these ac…”
“Woah. Way too much information.”
“You started it, Hank.”
“You still don’t get when people are shitting you, do you.”
“Maybe I do. Maybe you still don’t get when I’m purposely wasting your time because you’re wasting mine.”
“Why, you wanna get back to her?”
“Why do you continue to make this about North. She is neither my friend, nor does she have anything to do with you.”
“So she’s still giving you shit.”
“She certainly seems to enjoy using me for demonstration purposes during combat training, if that’s what you’re getting at. But just like I told you before: it’s on purpose. I’m using less than half of my processing capabilities during these demonstrations so the others can keep up. They’re awfully slow. They should consider upgrading their processors at some point. It’s no wonder they could barely put up a fight before.”
“And here I was, just about to say that you shouldn’t let them beat you down too hard. I take it back.”
Sixty gives Hank a smirk and leans back against the front of Hank’s Oldsmobile, so they both can look at Jericho’s gates in the distance better. He decides not to say anything to his friend just yet, knowing perfectly well that there’s more to come. But he already appreciates the statement, even if it had been packaged as an insult.
“But really. A lawyer” Hank says again, sipping on his large can of pineapple soda. The RK800 folds his arms over his chest and gives the former Lieutenant a little shrug. He takes a moment to look down on himself as he does so, his hands there, which haven’t been shaking in more than an entire week now. And they’re still not shaking, which makes him somewhat proud. It has taken him a while to get those involuntary reactions to the sight of both Hank and Connor under control.
That KL900 model keeps saying it’s because of the guilt, slowly fading away now that he’s found some purpose, some peace with the both of them . He still thinks that’s bullshit, but he’s learned not to tell her that anymore.
“It’s not that far fetched. He already has all that criminology knowledge coded into him. Coupled with the entire backlog of humanity’s criminal history. Interrogation tactics, hostage negotiation. A good detective can make a pretty good lawyer.”
Hank scoffs loudly and mumbles to himself. Even though Sixty has heard it perfectly fine, he still decides to annoy Hank.
“Excuse me?”
Hank gives him a glare, then eyeroll, but still answers anyway. Out of habit he supposes, considering his usual interactions with humans who can be hard of hearing.
“I said you and I both know why he really wants to do it and the answer’s still fucking no. He’s not stepping foot in that hearing room. They’d tear him to shreds.”
“You know, Hank, you tend to forget that he’s a lot like me, too.”
“How could I ever forget” the Lieutenant mutters to himself until he ends up chuckling.
“You as a lawyer though. Ha. Good one.”
Even though Sixty doesn’t want to given the ever so touchy subject, he can’t fight the equal smirk that breaks through. After having successfully devoured his burger and then hiding the wrapper in his back jeans pocket, the former Lieutenant keeps going.
“So, you figured out what you wanna do, yet?”
“I am doing something already.”
“Yeah. Letting that North woman and those deviants kick your ass. As if that’d make the way they treat you any better.”
Sixty looks back towards Jericho at that, having to fight a bit to keep a straight face.
“She wants to protect her people. I show them how to protect themselves. That’s it.”
“That’s it my ass” Hank says with a little chuckle, which makes Sixty all the more irritated.
“I’d really appreciate it if you stopped pushing your human sentiments onto this r..”
“All I’m saying is...I know you want her to forgive you, and that maybe, you should just start talking to her instead of letting her treat you like her doormat.”
“Ah. So this is what this is about. Connor snitched again.”
“He didn’t snitch , alright. He merely expressed his concerns with me. He thinks all that fighting isn’t good for you, and that maybe, you should find something proper for yourself, too. We both do, actually.”
“Like what, becoming a lawyer?” Sixty asks with a dismissive scoff, which makes Hank smirk, too. And with that, the Lieutenant studies him for a while again. Wants to say so many things. But Sixty speaks up first.
“You and I both know they’ll never let me do anything substantial. I’m dead to the world, remember. And in there, I’m still considered a prisoner for my crimes.”
“Well, maybe right now. But sooner or later, that world’s gonna forget all about you. I mean I know what Connor told me. You guys can get up to like what, 250 years? Plenty of time served in a ‘correctional facility’ if you ask me. Sooner or later they’re gonna forgive you. You’re gonna forgive yourself and get better. And then you gotta figure something out for yourself.”
“250 years, yeah right” Sixty says dismissively, noticing his mistake too late.
Because knowing Connor, he probably did tell Hank that age. Not the real age they could reach, which might barely scratch just about that time when the old man might die one day. Maybe 25 years max. If they get the continuous supply of parts. Sure enough, many of the domestic models can reach that age easily. Double, tripple that. Maybe even more. Certainly not them, though. They’re prototypes. They were built with a limited timespan in mind.
But of course.
Connor couldn’t do that to Hank. Connor wouldn’t do that. He would tell him on his death bed, as young as ever, forever trapped in that ‘30’ year old body and with a smile on his face, that he’ll have a good, happy and long life long after Hank is gone. And then he’s going to kill himself the second he’s gone. But Hank can’t know that. Shouldn’t know that. So Sixty is quick to try to save that little dystopia.
“Like I’m gonna let it get to that” he mutters, and in a way, he supposes it’s still true. Even if he’d had a lifespan of 250 years. He doubts he’d let it reach the end of that very large number. Not after he couldn’t even bear all this for a month.
“Hey. Watch your tongue.”
“Why, are you gonna feel tempted otherwise?” Sixty can’t help but mock Hank a little bit. But only because he knows his friend enjoys it by now. Because he sure doesn’t get this from Connor. Topics like this would send his twin into panic mode.
“Nah, looks like my shrink’s working a lot better than yours. Maybe they should exchange notes. Yours would have you write on little pink post-its in no time, too. You wouldn’t believe how helpful those are” Hank says sarcastically, making Sixty smirk once more. Not just because of the sarcasm, but also because deep down, he’s just as happy as Connor to hear that despite everything, Hank continues to keep going with his therapy.
“So how’s that going for you anyway” Hank asks after a while, no longer really looking at the android. The question is somewhat awkward but genuine, and Sixty appreciates it, too. Despite his own discomfort and awkwardness.
“Don’t worry. I’m still going” he says scantly, making Hank roll his eyes a bit.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I still want to kill people half the time, so what do you think.”
“Only half the time? Wow. Progress.”
Silence. After a while of adjusting, Sixty feels comfortable enough.
“I appreciate that this KL900 doesn’t hold any judgment against me. And her preconstructive module has a malfunction that allows it to be about 10 times more advanced and accurate than mine or Connor’s. That one tells her that predictions for my future point towards a positive development, so I guess it might work out eventually.”
Another beat of silence. More things he ends up admitting because he appreciates talking to Hank so much more. Out here, the furthest away from Jericho that he’s allowed to go by now, that he allows himself to go.
“Connor helps, too.”
“That’s what he tends to do” Hank agrees, letting out a little woeful sigh.
“Any luck?” he asks a moment later.
Sixty sighs, too, knowing what his friend is getting at .
“Allow me quote myself: You know, Hank, you tend to forget that he’s a lot like me. ”
Hank shakes his head and moves back so he can properly sit on the hood of his car, since his feet have gotten cold by now and he can no longer stand.
“Well, shit. He’ll have to talk to somebody eventually. I know he’s a lot like you. Why do you think I sug…”
“He would never do that to you and you know it.”
“I know. Doesn’t mean I’m any less worried about him.”
“He talks to me. We interface all the time.”
“Know that, too. And I appreciate it. But no offense: I don’t think your head’s the best place for him to be in to work through this stuff.”
Sixty takes a deep breath, even though he doesn’t need it.
“I know.”
“Speak of the devil” Hank says next, and flops down from the hood of the car and starts smirking. Because sure enough, there in the distance he is – another RK800. Dressed far better than the rest of his family. The sight of them never fails to make him beam his smile at them, genuine by now and after a lot of practice – a whole less creepy.
“I’ll try to talk to him about this later” Sixty tells Hank before Connor gets close enough to hear, wanting to ease his friend’s mind. Hank, already smiling, too, reaches out to pat his shoulder with an affectionate “Thanks, kid.”
“Bout time you showed up! Whatever happened to androids being punctual? I’m freezing my ass off here!” he barks out next, aimed at Connor who is a whopping 1 minute late.
“Sorry, Hank!” Connor shouts right back and starts explaining himself and why he’s late, but neither Hank nor Sixty are still listening.
“By the way, I thought of a new one” Hank says to the other RK800, who regards him for a moment questioningly, wondering, until he remembers and rolls his eyes.
“Not this again.”
“No, you’ll like this one, I promise.”
“Uhu.”
“Get this: Cain ” Hank says, underlining the name with both his hands forming an imaginary speech bubble high up in the air . Sixty regards him, the exasperated look on his face never changing.
“Really.”
“Yeah, you know, cos it’s starts with a C and…”
“...just happens to be the most well known story about fratricide in existence. And here I thought you couldn’t sink any lower.”
“I thought you had a thing for dark humor.”
“I have a thing for keeping the name I chose for myself, not that a human gave me. The way Connor seems to be completely comfortable with. No thank you.”
“I mean, to be fair, that one means dog lover. Pretty spot on if you ask me.”
“Speaking of dogs, why didn’t you bring Sumo?” Connor decides to chime in, as if he’d been following the entire conversation.
“This is getting ridiculous. I’ll see myself out” Sixty says with an eye roll, readying himself to get going.
“Don’t you mean ‘in’?” Hank teases him, which makes Sixty scoff and Connor chuckle at the same time. As they walk toward each other, then pass each other, both their hands reach out for a moment. Retract their skin, touch, glow, squeeze a bit, then let go. And even after he’s seen it a couple of times, it still makes Hank stare.
“Y’know, no matter how many times I see it, still gives me the creeps. At least have the common decency and let a man in on whatever the hell you’re talking about.”
“He wanted to know how many calories you’ve had while he was gone. I told him about that soda and burger of yours. Enjoy your day” Sixty answers and keeps walking, back turned on the both of them.
“Why would you even tell him I asked that?”
“Man, seriously? I told you it’s none of your fucking business, Connor!”
Hank and Connor complain at the same time, only making Sixty smirk. He still doesn’t bother turning around, keeps walking and walking as soon enough, both men start arguing with each other, never minding him anymore.
Sixty doesn’t mind this either, as it gives him enough time to really enjoy the moment, even laugh to himself on his way back to Jericho. The walk isn’t nearly as gloomy and depressing anymore. He appreciates it in fact, knowing that this is what his life has come to now. Connor and Hank, hating him for burgers and sodas and for telling the truth, not for killing or lying to them. Because there are no more lies to tell. Because there are no more deaths to endure. And because they’ll be right back by the end of the day, ready to be right by his side.