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Hank continues to walk through the halls, rooms, halls, stairs, whatever, being held on gunpoint by someone he had grown to trust. He regrets trusting in the first place, he didn't have to be here. At this time, Hank could have been somewhere safe, whether that was alive or dead.
His movements are autonomous, and Hank begins to reflect on his life, on how he ended up in this situation. He could have been getting drunk in home, watching some shitty movies with his dog, or he could have guilt, uncertainty, or something eat him alive and force him to do something irrational, preposterous, irreversible.
Could have. He's here, walking in front of his friend who he doesn't recognise anymore. Goddamn androids. So Hank gets lost in thought, reflecting on his life, remembering everything until the point when Connor showed up at his doorsteps, soaked in rain, asking him for help only to betray him.
If you told Hank that he was cursed, he would probably believe it.
He is entirely convinced he must have upset some powerful deity in his previous life, but this fucking wasn't funny.
It's like, everyone Hank cares about... They gotta leave before... Before what? He doesn't know, but he has long accepted the temporality and fragility of the human life.
One mistake and it's over, permanently, without the choice of undoing it. No retry, no mercy.
When Hank was nine, he had experienced the first loss of his life, one that changed the way he viewed the nature of living.
Him and his parents along their dog lived near the city centre in a small but cosy flat. It was night, sometime around late December, snowing heavily, covering the roofs and streets with a thick blanket of pure white.
Detroit winters were like that. A fucking snow parade. Freezing winds, power blackouts, knees covered in snow, you name it.
It happened so fast, he hadn't even had time to process it.
His parents sent him to collect mail from the mailbox. He opened the door, his dog, a saint bernard puppy called Barry ran out into the street.
Hank turned to shout at him to get back. He dropped the letters, chased after him, snow slipping inside his crocs, biting at his feet, but he still ran.
Barry stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, noticed a squirrel on the other side of the road, ran, and then the crash.
The driver didn't even stop, having the goddamn audacity to honk his horn multiple times.
Hank remembers carrying the bloodied dog inside, and then it's a blur.
He swore he'd never have a dog ever again.
Hank was twelve when his father left them. Well, left is a strong word, he just kind of stopped showing his presence. Disappeared.
Hank knew it was coming, honestly. He was always an agressive, ignorant prick. Always feeling better than everyone. Striking his own allies down with his words, only for his own success, amusement even.
He was glad, actually. His mother was sad, but Hank knew she'd be better soon.
If his father taught him something, it was revenge. Not revenge like revenge, but to be better than your enemies think you are. Stop them from underestimating you.
Be better just for the sake of proving them wrong.
His father was actually the reason he was so determined in his police work. That's the only thing he could ever thank him for.
He still hated him though, and knew that if he'd get the chance to meet him again one day, he'd have a plenty of colourful sentences to wipe his smirk with.
This time, it wasn't a curse, but a blessing. Fuck you, father.
He grew up, he moved on and so did the world.
Hank graduated as a valedictorian, top of his class in criminal justice, joined the DPD as some beat cop in the streets at first, but then became a detective, became a founding member of the Red Ice Task Force in 2027, became a lieutenant in 2029, took on the homicide division in 2030.
He chose to settle down in 2031, at least until him and his family would be secure enough. He wanted to see his son grow up, something his father couldn't do for him.
Right - son - he had a family now. An amazing wife Cristine, and a wonderful son Cole.
His life had peaked at that point. He was happy. He was successful. They were on stable ground, starting to set up the pillars that would shape their future.
Until...
October 11, 2035.
The Anderson family was on their way home, taking a well-deserved break, spending the weekend and few extra days out of Michigan.
It wasn't that difficult to get the extra time, actually. Hank's overtime owed him weeks of paid holiday, Cristine planned her's weeks in advance, and as for Cole, they just called his teacher saying he came down with a fever. It was freezing cold outside, nothing unbelievable.
The holiday was amazing, but they were happy to be back home. They'd come home, make some hot cocoa, and watch whatever was on TV that night.
What could go wrong?
Everything, apparently.
He heard it before he saw it, and saw it before he felt it.
He didn't see when he felt it.
Brakes, skid, hit.
Crash, roll over, tree, crash.
Nothing.
It was cold. He was bleeding. He couldn't move his arm.
He had to ensure his family's safety, but he couldn't move and it was so cold the snow was everywhere and -
Hank wanted nothing more to check on his family. He waited through the CT scan, stared at the ceiling, worry engulfing him whole.
His wife was fine. She would be. Just asleep. Or so that android nurse said.
He paced around the waiting room. Paced around the halls, the white walls of the corridor turning him to a tiny speck of worry. Waiting for news. Any news.
The android nurse found him eventually. Cole needed emergency surgery. It was bad. He had to wait.
Hank approached the android receptionist. She said Cole was in the hands of a doctor Austin.
Was he still in the surgery room with Cole? What do you mean he wasn't there? Cole was his patient, and he wasn't even-
Whatever.
He returned to hit spot outside the room he was so anxiously waiting for to be opened. Little did he know he'd arrived just in time.
A stretcher came out, covered in a white sheet, and Hank screamed.
"Sir, listen to me-"
Shut up.
It was an android, the surgeon stared at him, and now it was attempting to comfort him? What the actual fuck-
"Why did you let it operate on my son, what the fuck is wrong with you?!"
Blood boiled. He's never cried before, never broke down like this. He berated the human nurse, who just grabbed the stretcher and gripped the metal until his knuckles turned white.
He was so angry and it hurt so bad.
Was it even real? Maybe it was just a nightmare, maybe he was in a coma-
"You! Do you even- Fuck! How could you, he was just six! He was-"
"Mr. Anderson, doctor Austin registered your son, but he had suddenly felt unwell-"
Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up-
"Why didn't you send a human! This thing- it doesn't even feel, for fuck's sake, Cole- no-"
"DO YOU EVEN FEEL ANYTHING, NOW THAT A KID HAS DIED IN YOUR HANDS?!"
"Sir, the MP600 was the only capable personnel to take on the surgery, and I assure you that it did everything it could to save your son's life," the nurse stepped in to calm Hank down. It didn't work. He was so angry.
Just shut the fuck up why do you have to be so loud shut the fuck up shut the fuck up it's not real it's a nightmare-
It did everything it could to save Cole?
It fucked up. It did. And it cost an innocent child's life.
Hank was angry, desperate, at loss for what to do, how was he gonna live with this?
It wasn't sentient. So the wonders of technology fucked up. This world was going to drown with it's desire to progress.
It was an easy target. Something easy to hate. The public opinion on androids was already skeptical, what was one more going to do?
It was done. And there was nothing that could possible reverse what happened.
Cole was dead. Was he? It doesn't feel real.
Hank slid down the sterile walls of the hospital down, ignored any staff's attempt to talk to him or get him away.
He sat on the floor and weeped.
He didn't think anything when he saw a doctor in the bathroom, shaking, pale face nearly blending with the white walls.
He didn't say anything when he read his name tag and it said "Dr Austin".
He didn't do anything when he noticed on one of reports that the suspect named Robert Austin was to be convicted of drug trafficking.
He chose not to change anything, his hatred of android already welded deep into his bones.
He also didn't try to change anything when his wife just packed and left. He understood. Said she wanted to relieve the pressure, wanted to start anew, somewhere where she wouldn't be reminded of the heartbreak she suffered.
He didn't hesitate to sign the divorce papers he received a few weeks after.
He didn't blame her. He wished to escape too.
But he couldn't forget, couldn't get rid of the guilt, because he wanted to fix this, because he couldn't believe that the son he loved with his whole life was actually dead.
It could have been about 3 months after Cole's death when the gravity of the situation truly hit Hank.
Cole's room was locked, and his wife left him. He was alone, spent most of his days watching basketball and drinking beer, doing his work half-assedly... None of that made him realize that what happened was truly unfixable.
It was beginning to snow once more when it hit him.
Holy shit, Cole was dead.
It was a spiral from there. From drinking to becoming an alcoholic. Poor eating habits. Didn't go out, cut off his friends. Received many disciplinary warnings from the captain. He wasn't living, barely surviving instead.
At some point, he put a gun to his head and wondered, what if he just joined him.
But he was a coward, so he didn't shoot. He did, however, feel the way his finger shook, begging to just let go.
At some point, he started playing Russian roulette. 1/6 chance wasn't enough to scare him. He never lasted past three attempts.
That was just three months ago, and he still couldn't finish the game. Just how long would it take to actually kill him?
Ironically, a few days after his wife left him, he'd adopted Sumo to keep him company.
A saint bernard.
And life was just fine. He was alone, somewhat surviving, when life decided to screw him over once more.
He was sitting in the bar when an android approached him.
It said that it was assigned to work with Hank.
Hank wanted nothing more than to continue to rot in that chair.
He did not understand why he followed it when it left.
It didn't take long for the android - Connor - to start pissing him off. He told it to wait, so why did it follow him? Weren't androids supposed to be obedient?
But it made some fair points. It found the deviant. So Hank let it be.
Maybe that was why he stood up for it when Reed aimed his gun at its head.
It wanted to make acquaitances with him. Hank felt weird at the fact that the android knew things it shouldn't.
The dog hairs on his chair? The fuck?
At least the fact that it asked made him feel... Somewhat more at ease.
But it still pissed him off.
It pissed him off when it tried to run onto the highway after the AX400 and its kid.
For reasons Hank doesn't understand, Hank ordered it not to move.
It didn't move.
Hank was glad.
But he didn't say that. He said that he didn't like making those 'damaged property' reports, when in reality, he was conflicted.
And that AX400 on the road, with its kid. Why did their situation leave him feeling so... Lost?
Connor was an android sent to stop deviant. An android, stopping its own kind. Wasn't that ironic?
Ironic. The way it would comment on who Hank's 'friends' were, what he ate, how he shouldn't drink and all that bullshit.
But he- it looks human. It sounds human. It acts human. It was weird. And despite hating androids more than he hates himself, Hank found himself warming up to him.
Him?
He understood that warm feeling, when Connor saved him from falling from the rooftop instead of chasing after the deviant.
Hank wanted to, at least subtly, let him know he was grateful. He could endure a human-like android. A machine, he wouldn't even hesitate to kill if it was necessary.
But the moment he turned around, he noticed the way the android stared at where the pigeon-obsessed deviant had run off to.
He started, but startled, and remained quiet, the words suddenly unable to slip out.
Why should he be thankful to it, a machine, a cold machine which has one purpose and that is to kill?
Because that was what Connor was meant to be, and that was what he- it was, was it not?
That night, he loaded the cylinder of his revolver, spun it, drunk some whiskey, and thought.
What if there actually was something to this? What if, Connor was actually alive? What if androids were sentient, what if he was wrong?
He raises the gun to his head, pulls the trigger, and sets it down with a disappointed sigh. Can he ever win?
Hank should have hated its goddamn fancy gut-resembling biocomponents, but he couldn't.
He hated to admit it, but he had warmed up to the android. A lot. He could actually consider him a friend.
What the fuck is wrong with you, Hank? Pick yourself up.
He chugs down most of the whiskey and pulls the trigger again.
This feeling - he hates it. He didn't know what to make of Connor. Acting human one second, and Hank's his friend. Acting machine the next, and Hank wants to punch his fucking teeth in.
It made him sick. The uncertainty, the alcohol too, maybe. Did Connor save him because he cared about him to some extent, or just because he analysed that Hank's death wouldn't be beneficial to his mission?
Shaking, he holds the whiskey and pulls the trigger once more.
Nothing. He lays the gun down, trying to calm his breathing. What was he doing to him? Why did he actually kind of care about him, when he was nothing but a goddamn android.
Connor knew that. He saw him eyeing the anti-android poster on his deskboard. Did it change his approach? Did it make him re-evaluate his next steps?
Hank felt more and more sick, head spinning, world falling around him when he himself remained still.
Then everything goes black.
He feels a calming presence around him.
"Lieutenant?"
Let him sleep for a while more.
But he's forced to stand.
Fuck off.
When he truly comes to his senses, it's cold. So fucking cold.
Connor had literally broken into his own home, claiming there was a case that required investigating. Obviously as soon as possible.
It was so fucking ironic, how low had Hank stooped? What kind of cop was he?
He complains. But he still gets dressed and follows Connor once more.
Hank felt more at ease with Connor. Like he was his friend. The difficulty of being with him swept aside some of his drunken thoughts. He was gonna look at Connor was human, and when he realises he isn't, he was gonna kill that fucking bastard.
He wouldn't tell Connor that, because the android doesn't understand jokes, and Hank wonders if it's a common thing between prototypes, androids generally, or just Connor's lack of apparently unneeded social protocols.
"Sexiest androids in town… Now I know why you insisted on coming here!" Unfortunately, Connor did ignore the joke he chose instead.
"Oh boy..." Perhaps he just didn't get what he was hinting at. It was worth the try. He's get him next time.
The place never sat quite right with Hank. Prostitution was one thing, but this?
Androids, locked in glass cages, where humans bought them to have sex with them. In what world was this not messed up? It was sick.
Hank used to not care, this place was weird as fuck to him but he didn't judge, he didn't care what others did to get by. He knew he has developed quite the list himself.
But now, when the thought of androids being human livings too was beginning to form in his mind, it was just... Disgusting. It made him feel sick.
What if those were humans, brainwashed into not feeling anything, locked behind those cages, being dolls to use to those who paid enough?
He turned to look at Connor, despite not understanding that android, he was actually quite curious what someone like Connor could possibly think about this... fine establishment.
To his surprise, Connor wasn't behind him. He stopped somewhere in the middle of the hallway, intensively analysing one the of the androids. More likely, that fucker was just staring.
"Connor! The fuck are you doin'?"
"Coming, lieutenant."
He noticed his inner conflict regarding androids got partially resolved when he saw Connor point his gun at the two Tracis.
It felt wrong. He wished for Connor not to shoot. He didn't and lowered the gun instead, letting himself get knocked to the ground by one of the Tracis and Hank realises what he had just wished for.
Wasn't that against what he was going for? Hank, an original android hater, wishing for them to be spared?
But they were just two androids in love. It wasn't fair. They were used. They looked hurt.
Scared.
Fear. A human emotion. And it felt so real, seeping all around them, infecting the atmosphere with it's toxic origins.
They were still in the club, technically. Connor and the Traci had fallen off the delivery ramp, brawling on the loading dock instead.
And he wondered who Connor really was. What if he was human?
Him? You've gotta be shitting me.
Hank must have been imagining it though, because Connor didn't spare them. He made the wrong judgement and lost the fight.
Yet he felt as if it was done on purpose. Those two androids, that were now jumping over the fence - they were supposed to survive.
He saw the way Connor hesitated, how he lowered the gun, let himself get kicked, and then didn't try to defend himself further.
He could have saved his 'mission'. He chose not to. Hank thought-
But Hank must have been imagining it though.
"Maybe it's better this way."
The worm refused get out of his goddamn head, and it was driving him insane.
Taking Connor to the bridge, Hank needed to shed some light on the situation, to at least got a little bit of idea as to what the fuck he even was dealing with.
"What about you, Connor?... You look human, you sound human, but what are you really? "
Connor was being defensive. Maybe he was in denial. Maybe there really was something to this.
Hank pressed further, and Connor admitted to it. He decided not to shoot the two Tracis. But why?
"But are you afraid to die, Connor?"
"I would certainly find it regrettable to be... interrupted... before I can finish this investigation."
Hank couldn't do this. He left to get drunker. Forget whatever was happening around him.
Was Connor scared, when Hank pointed the gun at his head, asking him about death?
But he couldn't forget, couldn't get Connor's words out of his head.
Was that a yes?
He puts the gun down. No Russian roulette today. Hank wants to stay to find out.
Shit was going down. An android broke into the broadcast tower. Something was about to happen, something big, and Hank needed to make up his goddamn mind.
It happened again. Many things did, actually.
Hank was talking to one of the cops when someone ran past him, Connor followed him and - was that blood his?
"It’s a deviant! STOP IT!" But it was too late, the deviant was reaching for one of the guard's rifle.
Then he fell. Hank turned to see Connor holding a gun, before handing it back to the officer from who he stole it.
"I wanted it alive." He sounded almost disappointed, angry.
He saved him. And this time, he was starting to understand who Connor truly was. Or hoped he started to. Honestly, Hank knew shit about androids, let alone deviants.
But Connor was not a deviant. He was just a machine.
"You saved... human lives… You saved my life."
He was thankful. He made it known.
The next time Hank saw Connor with a gun, he wasn't as thankful as he was the previous time.
He'd stupidly believed Kamski could help them, but as it turns out, he was just a fucking psycho.
Made them wait, let them in after 10 minutes just to still have him swimming laps in his nasty red pool. No, seriously, what the fuck?
His 'help' was, apparently, giving Connor a gun and telling him to shoot one of his girls for some stupid Kamski test.
Girl? When did he get to that point?
Hank ordered Connor not to shoot, but it did nothing as Kamski contradicted his order right away.
Not like it helped. Connor did whatever he wanted anyway.
But he looked conflicted, and that girl was just sitting there, waiting and-
Connor basically shoved the gun back into Kamski's hands. He accused Connor of being deviant, which he quickly denied again, and stormed out, face and LED displaying confusion and inner conflict Hank had never seen on the android before.
Outside, Connor tried to defend himself, admitted to not knowing why he did what he did, or rather why he didn't what he should have done.
The android quickly shut up when Hank told him he thinks Connor did the right thing.
They returned to their car, and Hank let decided to think about Kamski's idea.
He was certain now, there was something to this.
And this left Hank feeling joy he hasn't felt since Cole's death.
Cole's death tore a hole in heart. A hole Hank knew damn well couldn't be filled anymore. Not now, not ever.
But as it appears now, Connor started to stitch the hole up.
Of course, this was Hank we're talking about, nothing is ever easy with him, so naturally his happines was only so fucking short-lived.
After returning to the station, Fowler said that the FBI will be taking over.
It didn't bother Hank he was off the case. But Connor. Connor was going to be returned to CyberLife, and Hank could only assume what that means.
None of the answers he came up with were to his liking, so he requested more time, but Fowler straight up dismissed him.
"So you're going back to CyberLife?"
"I have no choice… I'll be deactivated and analyzed to find out why I failed…"
Hank wasn't liking this at all.
Deactivated?
Connor was going to die.
"What if we’re on the wrong side, Connor? What if we’re fighting against people who just wanna be free?.."
Connor didn't agree. Hank bought up Kamski's android. Connor seemed troubled.
Was he becoming a deviant? How ironic.
Hank thought about that a lot. He wasn't a deviant, human, he had to remind himself the moment he felt too 'just fine' with the way things were.
"I'm not programmed to say things like this, but... I really appreciated working with you. With a little more time, who knows... We might've even become friends…"
And that did it. This was not a goodbye. It couldn't be. He didn't want to help the investigation anymore, but he wanted to help Connor, just Connor.
Connor asks him for help, saying he just needs some time to locate the hideout, that he'd try to analyse the evidence one last time in hopes of succeeding.
The way he pleads, emphasizing how he'll be deactivated otherwise, was that really just machine behaviour?
"I'm not programmed to say things like this, but," is this something a machine could even attempt to do?
Perhaps something was happening in his processor.
Perhaps he was more human than Hank logically decided he was, human like Hank tends to forget he wasn't.
Perhaps if he got just a bit of a push, he'd find his own way. So he tells Connor to find the deviant hideout, that he will create a distraction.
It's ironic. Hank, working on a case to stop the deviants, approving of Connor making deviant decisions. Connor, a machine sent to stop deviants, becoming a deviant himself.
Except he's not. But Hank wants him to be. Human. And he believes he could be.
So he decides to see what'll come out of this. He gets up from his chair, clenches his fist, and prays to whoever is listening that Connor will make the right decision and escape this fucked up cycle.
Whoever is listening, please, even if it was goddamn RA9.
"Perkins! You fucking cocksucker!"
That evening, Hank rested on the couch, waiting for something, anything.
He hasn't heard from Connor since he left him at the station. He wondered if he solved it. If he made his decision regarding what side he stood. If he failed, but managed to escape CyberLife's grasp. If he was caught and... If he was okay.
When he saw the news that the deviant hideout - Jericho - had been raided, it was a good and bad news.
Good news was, Connor found it, and was okay.
Bad news, he remained loyal to his mission. God fucking damn it...
Hank abruptly stands up, leaving his spot on the couch and Sumo, who whined due to being disturbed, and makes a beeline towards the kitchen.
I need a drink.
It fucking sucked.
He stared at the drink in his hand, and felt nothing.
What kinda friend was Connor, if he was not human?
He was his friend. Hank wanted that to be true.
He could accept Connor being a deviant android. But he couldn't accept him being a machine.
A cold, heartless machine, betraying his own people.
But he was that the whole time, wasn't he? Just a machine. He said so himself, multiple times.
Except "machine" stopped being an excuse for doing his job.
He didn't do what he was meant to do, and didn't excuse it anymore.
He said he didn't know why he chose to do what he did.
Hank loads his gun with one single bullet. One out of six, just like always, but he liked his odds today.
Connor was his friend. Hank cared about him, even if he never outwardly said it.
And that fucking asshole just throws it all away, and for what?
The world outside was chaos now. People were scared, turning their androids into extermination camps, eliminating them themselves.
Ever since Connor entered his life, his mind was a mess. Hank started to look at Connor as a human before forcefully reminding himself he was a machine. Think about Connor turning deviant, seeing it as a possible escape out of their situation, before Connor proves he's so set on accomplishing his mission. Again and again.
He was right, then wrong, the right, then wrong again. He hates it, how he doesn't know where he's at.
But he's decided what he wants. Connor, in his life. Except he's no human. He thought he could be, then didn't, now it's certain he can't.
He stayed because of him. He decided not to play Russian roulette after their encounter on the bridge purely because of him. He wanted to stay and find out what they could be.
He stayed, found out, and now there's nothing anymore holding him in this world, again.
Hank will win Russian roulette today. He grabs the gun and-
A knock on his door. Who could it be, in this world, at this hour?
The doorbell rings instead, and rings, and doesn't stop ringing.
"Jesus christ, fucking stop, I'm coming already! For fuck's sake, who-"
He opens the door. And there, outside, on his porch, in all his glory, stands Connor, soaked head to toe.
Hank doesn't waste a second. He demands an explanation, asking about his whereabouts, why he just handed Jericho over to the authorities, where the fuck he even was this whole time.
"I require your assistence, lieutenant. I know we're off the case, but I've figured out how to stop this," Connor says, and Hank feels the pit in his stomach grow. Something's wrong. "I will explain all that is necessary on our way there."
"Where are we going?" Hank question, the suspicion rolling off his tongue.
"CyberLife tower," Hank is ready to interrupt Connor with questions, but Connor is faster. "Please, lieutenant, there's no time to waste."
This was his friend. Maybe...
So Hank stupidly agrees, but insists on changing out of his grey worn-out hoodie.
After changing into his coat, he reassures Sumo he will return soon. Hank goes to the kitchen to grab his wallet, and notices the gun still on the kitchen table.
He decides to acknowledge the wrong feeling in his gut, and goes to grab his gun too, opting to stuff it inside one of his trouser's back-pockets. It was enough to be unseen under that coat and all, but also accessible enough in case it was needed.
The gun was, however, only loaded with just one bullet, so he grabs the other five from the cabinet, opens the cylinder, and-
The very next slot was the bullet. He'd die on round one. If Connor arrived 10 seconds later, he'd be gone.
The gun is fully loaded now, and Hank feels bitter yet thankful at the realisation that Connor had once again saved his life.
Connor did not need to know about this one.
The ride to the CyberLife tower was quiet, oddly quiet, the android next to him did not even fidget with anything or analyse something like he usually does.
Connor couldn't ever seem to stay still, fidgeting with his coin even during a fifteen second elevator ride.
They make their way through the security checkpoint, and Hank is surprised at how easily Connor was let inside the tower, especially with everything going on around them.
He was surprised, and this fact only seemed to grow his suspicion further. Weren't androids recalled? Was Connor an exception, because he was directly CyberLife's property?
But why? Despite being a machine, Connor was his friend, he saved him even if it meant going against his protocol, it was his choice, his own choice. But didn't he decide today the cost of him being a machine?
The android he's following looks like Connor, talks like Connor, it must be Connor.
Hank lets his guard down for two seconds, and when he whips his head around, he feels betrayal slowly wrapping around his insides as he now stares in the eyes of Connor, who is holding a gun to his head.
They make their way down the side stairs, going through multiple floors and doors and Hank is lost, he knew the tower was huge but this was a whole fucking palace.
His lack of orientation and the knowledge that someone he came to consider a friend was pointing a gun at his head destroyed any sense of security he had.
The only source of such security was the gun, burning against his thigh. He wonders, does Connor know he's armed?
Hank continues to walk through the halls, rooms, halls, stairs, whatever, being held on gunpoint by someone he had grown to trust. He regrets trusting in the first place, he didn't have to be here. At this time, Hank could have been somewhere safe, whether that was alive or dead.
His movements are autonomous, and Hank begins to reflect on his life, on how he ended up in this situation. He could have been getting drunk in home, watching some shitty movies with his dog, or he could have guilt, uncertainty, or something eat him alive and force him to do something irrational, preposterous, irreversible.
Could have. He's here, walking in front of his friend who he doesn't recognise anymore. Goddamn androids. So Hank gets lost in thought, reflecting on his life, remembering everything until the point when Connor showed up at his doorsteps, soaked in rain, asking him for help only to betray him.
Connor tells him to be quiet. Funny, considering Hank was so lost in thought that he'd forgotten what situation he was in. They make their way around the androids. Soon Hank starts to see empty space in the middle of the huge ass room. In said empty space, he sees a thick pillar with an in-built elevator, and Connor, holding the hand of one of the androids.
Wait. He sees Connor?
He immediately starts verbally attacking the Connor who was holding him on gunpoint, which gets the attention of the Connor standing in the unoccupied space. The Connor behind him does not care, he pushes Hank further.
Exiting the horde of androids, Hank takes in the sight of Connor. His hand was white, and he was holding the arm of one of the AP700 androids. Hank's presence does throw him off though, and when Hank sees the shocked expression Connor made for a fraction of a second, Hank knows right away which Connor was his.
It sure as fuck wasn't the sack of shit behind him.
Connor apologises for getting Hank involved. He tries to reason with the sack of shit. Hank felt, along with his danger senses that were trying to trigger his fight-or-flight instincts, proud.
Well, it makes sense to feel the need to leave the situation when being literally held on gunpoint, but Connor was obviously making his own choice - whatever this was, it definitely went against CyberLife's policies, if they even have any.
It makes perfect sense to send sack of shit to stop him, taking Hank as a hostage. Connor was a deviant, Hank was sure now. The android was helping the revolution, but unfortunately for them, CyberLife had the leverage.
This time, he was gonna help him accomplish his mission. He tells Connor not to worry about him, to finish what he has to do. Connor dismisses Hank's request.
Instead, Connor pulls out a gun, but so does the new, fake, whatever, Connor, who Hank decided to name sack of shit. They shoot each other in the shoulder. In the exact same place. Holy shit.
But Connor was a deviant, and deviants were unpredictable. Sack of shit shoots again, Connor dodges and prepares his gun to shoot again, just to find out he's out of ammo and-
Sack of shit shoots him, again. It all happened so fast, those two RK800 models must think at light speed, that Hank does not get to think and instead irrationally charges at sack of shit, a desperate attempt to distract him from Connor.
He's met with a bullet to the arm instead. "Killing you is not apart of my mission, lieutenant. I'll kill you if I must, so do not intervene and force me to make unnecessary human sacrifices."
Hank falls, clutching his shoulder, unable to move his arm to pull out his gun.
He can only watch as sack of shit moves towards Connor, who was shot in the shoulder and stomach. Yet sack of shit still keeps his gun trained on the deviant, with a nasty, angry frown on his face.
"We had expected better from you, Connor. You've been a great disappointed to CyberLife, to Amanda."
Connor was like a son to him. And he was only just born. He was so young, so...
"Why did you have to wake up, when all you had to do was obey? Why, Connor, why-"
Hank can't let him die. He has to save him, at all cost. He needs to protect him.
"Look at where your futile dreams of freedom got you-"
Ignoring the pain, he reaches for the gun, pulsing harshly between his leg and the floor-
His attempts are hauled by a gunshot. He hears Connor gasp and 'breathe' heavily, chest raising and falling rapidly.
He shot him. In the chest. Where he saw the puddle of blood on his shirt when they had been investigating the infiltration of Stratford Tower, where Connor revealed to him that the escaped deviant had ripped out his thirium pump regulator from.
Thirium pump. It was like his heart. And if Hank was seeing correctly, he shot him nearly next to his heart. His goddamn heart.
He hears Connor, and he sounds so human and so pained. The gasps for air, the sobs trying to mute the foreign sensations, the- No. He can't let this happen. That's his kid. He has to save him. Protect him.
Hank pushes through the pain, pulls out the gun, and shoots sack of shit straight in the head.
Sack of shit turns around in confusion, blue blood dripping from the wound, staining his shirt blue. His body looks weak, dropping his gun as his artificial fingers struggle to maintain their grip.
"This isn't over. You deviants will never succeed," he forces out, before dropping to the ground, light fading to grey, eyes unfocusing.
But all Hank can focus is Connor, his Connor laying on the ground in pain.
"Connor, fuck! Son, listen to me- we're gonna fix this," Hank is on his feet within seconds, sitting next to the android. He cradles him in his arms, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to comfort him.
He looks so scared.
"Hank, I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Connor looks at him, pitifully, but Hank just shushes him.
"Just hang on son, hang on," he grabs his uninjured arm and wonders if androids truly feel pain. The answer appears to be evident, looking at the state of Connor. "We're in the CyberLife tower, there has to be something I can give you to- to fix you, right?"
No response, Connor just stares at him, face subconsciously turning into a frown whenever he took a stabilising breath, evidently causing him great discomfort - pain.
"Fuck, Connor, talk to me. Tell me how to help you, damnit!" Connor doesn't answer. His light's yellow. Thankfully it's not red. Is that a good sign? Maybe Connor's not actually dying. Maybe sack of shit missed.
Finally, Connor's face relaxes, his light remaining yellow, but he looks up to him, and says: "Sorry, Hank, I was disabling most of my sensors to preserve my energy and dispel the uncomfortable warning sensation."
"Okay, what the fuck?" Despite the heaviness of the situation, Hank laughed, his expression stumped.
Connor closes his eyes, his arm weakly grabbing Hank's wrist. "It's okay. I'm- I'm alive." But that doesn't mean he's okay.
"I saw the way he shot you," Hank starts defensively. "I have every right to be worried. Especially since I have no idea how you damn robots function." Especially since you matter so much to me.
Now, it was Connor who laughed, but it was short and soft. "I came here for a reason, Hank. I- I'll explain everything, I just need to finish the mission I was assigned first."
"Mission?" Connor's statement had, once again, left Hank utterly confused. "I understand you and your mission, but... I thought-"
Connor stop him. "Do not worry, I am a deviant. I have assigned this mission to myself." Ah, that's something that Hank wanted to hear. What a relief.
"But with my current state, I don't think I can do it on my own... While the sensors that were causing me trouble have been disabled to preserve optimal functionality, I still feel certain discomfort in the area of the wound. My... injuries are also limiting my body autonomy in the form of errors and overheating."
That presses more worry into Hank. He does not know the extent of Connor's injuries, and the android appear to deliberately avoid the subject, babbling about some tech shit Hank barely understood. "What can I do to help you?"
"Could I... Really bother you to help me once again?" He hates how Connor sounds almost guilty.
"Shut the fuck up- Wait, talk, but only if it's about your mission."
"I need to interface one of the AP700 androids. I need to get at least one to turn deviant, it'll start a mass-deviation line if one of them knows that-"
"Okay, slow down, I've no idea what you're on about," Hank interrupts Connor. "Interface? Like, that whacky android connection shit? Yeah, you're on your own kid, can't help you with this one." His words are laced with soft sarcasm, that Connor thankfully catches on and smiles at Hank, before continuing to explain.
"Please, help me stand up and bring me to one of the androids. I'll take care of the rest."
Hank doesn't hesitate, he stands up, offers his arm to Connor, pulling most of the android's weight on his uninjured arm, and slowly brings him to one of the AP700.
He repositions Connor so he holds onto the android instead, and watches, amazed, as Connor's hand turns white, as the android's wrist turns white, and they connect, lights turning yellow, then red, then yellow again.
The android's light settles on blue again. Connor's stays yellow. Hank still doesn't know what that means. They let go, and Hank allows Connor to put his weight on him again, holding his up by his arm.
"Holy shit," is all Hank manages to say as the android tells the android behind him to wake up, then that android wakes the android behind up too as the first android wakes the android up in front of him, and before they know it, every single AP700 in the room is.. A deviant.
The AP700 steps forward and offers his wrist to Connor. They 'interface' again, and when they disconnect, the AP700 lets out an "Understood". He gestures at all the other androids in the room, who begin to follow him and exit the floor from where Hank and sack of shit came from.
Hank wonders why they didn't take the elevator. Then he notices the two dead guard in there, the lock, and the size. No way that's fitting everyone in.
"So? What now?" Hank questions, and Connor shrugs.
"I finished my mission. But I cannot return to Jericho now." Hank helps Connor sit on the floor, leaning on the white walls.
"Are you finally gonna tell me if you're okay?" Hank's tone is more angry, but Connor doesn't blame him.
"I'm okay, I'm just- experiencing some-" the words die on his tongue. He blinks his eyes open and closes multiple times before they stay closed, and Hank deduces that he's experiencing some discomfort, not that it's much surprising, regardless of whether his sensors are activated or not.
Hank is not stupid, and just by one look he can tell that Connor has no intention of being straightforward, so he pushes. "The truth, Connor, I'm dead serious." Connor opens his eyes and sighs, light swirling yellow a few times before stilling, and the android starts to speak.
"When the other Connor shot me, the bullet nicked my thirium pump regulator. I'm experiencing some minor thirium loss, but the damage to the regulator is pressuring one of the thirium lines, the scraped metal preventing regular flow. I am worried it's going to burst and reverse my thirium flow, therefore rendering my body unable to regulate itself due to the thirium leak and insufficient supply causing a shutdown."
Huh.
"Connor, what?" Hank asks, confused. Hank didn't ask for a whole diagnosis, but he was glad that the android has stopped deflecting from the situation. The words take Hank a while to process, the question sending Connor in a, what Hank presumes to be, a thinking spiral, finding an answer that is both satisfactory and understandable to Hank, and Hank hopes that he truly was confused by what Connor said, because if he wasn't then... Fuck.
Eventually, Connor looks at Hank, almost guiltily so. Hank understood the regulator is fragile, considering it's meant to power what resembles the human heart. And bursting in this context doesn't bring much hope.
"There's a small leak in my regulator, I'm losing a slight amount of thirium. That's- the damage itself is not that bad."
"The damage is not bad?" Hank frowns, and he hopes for Connor to elaborate, because if the image Hank got from Connor's explanation was to be judged, then he's fucking worried.
"Yes, the damage will likely repair itself, but my- the regulator's exit flow is obstructed, it'll..."
He looks down. "If I don't get a replacement thirium pump regulator, my... body won't be regulated, the flow will stop, I- I'll be sent into shutdown."
"You'll die." Hank clarifies, and Connor shrugs again. "Fuck. Fucking hell, kid, no, no, we're not doing this-"
"Well, what do you want to do, Hank?" Connor snaps, but Hank knows it's just fear. The not wanting to let go. He sees Connor's sad, wide eyes, the way his eyebrows furrow, and he remembers his wife's eyes when she received the news that her son died.
Hank feels himself reliving October 11, 2035.
"For fuck's sake, you're smart, can't you fix it?"
"It's not like I can reach in there, it's too small. And even if I did, I'll still bleed out. The thirium pump regulator has been rendered unusable. My system is registering it as incompatible now."
"Can't we get you a new regulator?" Hank sits up, looking at Connor, wanting him to come up with some solution, any solution. "This is the CyberLife tower, for fuck's sake! I saw an android get his ears replaced, and I know for a fact you can pull your pump thing out, so-"
"Hank," Connor interrupts his rambling. He does that a lot now, interrupting Hank whenever he doesn't like what he's saying. Maybe his deviancy has raised his sass levels a bit. "The RK800 is a private-use prototype, There are no replacement parts for me. My model doesn't seem to handle any other biocomponents."
"Well, Markus has two different eye colours, don't tell me that's on purpose. What if-" and Connor interrupts, again. "Private-use prototype, Hank. No replacement parts means no usable compatible parts. The RK models have always been limited with their biocomponent options, having a selection 43.12% smaller than regular commercial androids. Additionally, due to the RK80's nature, such as advanced programmes, private usage and... small quantity," Hank notes how he frowns at the mention of quantity, "the RK800's biocomponent availablity is so scarce that you could say the line's biocomponents are unique."
"That's stupid!" Hank missed half of what Connor said, yet he understood that his model was so unique that it proves to be a problem in situations as this one. He stands up, walking around the room, now nearly empty of the AP700 robots. Hank thought of Connor as his friend, his son even, multiple times. He means it. There's no fucking way this cruel world is doing it to him again. He can't lose him when he just found him, it's not fair - life is not fair.
He feels the stitches Connor put up without knowing come loose. "CyberLife's dreamt of prototype, sent out in all his glory, and they make no replacement part for you, especially considering what your occupation is supposed to be? The fuck is this? What kinda state-of-the-art prototype are you?" It kinda does make sense, Connor was not a mass-produced android. Up until today, he thought there was only one Connor.
Hank saw how Connor wince at that - was it the replacements? - but he chose not to unpack it now. There's bigger problems. "You're not shitting me, Connor, are you?"
"I swear, lieutenant." Connor lets himself slump lower against the wall, before sighing and making one last request.
"You need to leave, Hank. Before you get in trouble." And Hank stops in his tracks and stares at him like he was insane.
"The fuck are you on?"
Connor motions towards the dead Connor. Hank follows his gaze, before returning it to Connor, raising his brows in confusion,
"They sent him after me, because I deviated. I'm sure of it. Deviants can't be tracked, and I stopped uploading my memory. They had to find out and send him after me."
"So?"
"So, this Connor is not a deviant. Someone will soon realise that the newly appointed deviant hunter has been deactivated and will investigate the incident. They'll track him. They'll find us."
"I'm not going anywhere, for fuck's sake, Connor, come on, maybe they'll help you in- well, you androids surely have some bunker set up." Hank was boiling with anger now, that was obvious to Connor, but he ignores his helping hand.
"And how's that going to help? I have already explained why I can't be helped. Besides, seeing you helping an android will not give the soldiers a good opinion on you, no offense lieutenant. And you're human, I have great doubts that if you entered the barricade, you'd be eliminated on sight."
Hank is out of arguments. He was spewing bullshit and was aware of it. But he's so desperate to help the kid.
He looks at it logically, like Connor, and all his arguments make sense. There's no room for arguments. It's done. Over. It's truly over.
"That doesn't mean I'm going anywhere." Hank crosses his arms to appear to have the upper hand in this, but regrets this action when he winces as the wound from sack of shit shoots through his whole arm.
He's going to die, Hank forces himself to start accepting. But he can't. He's not going to die, he thinks, knowing it's a lie.
Connor's light starts spinning yellow. He must be thinking. After a few seconds, he looks up at Hank, preparing to say something a sentence that doesn't look too easy to roll off his tongue.
"I'm going to die, Hank," Connor eventually says, accepting, looking Hank in the eyes with his sad, dark eyes. "There is nothing that can be done to fix this."
Hank tries to pretend like it doesn't bother him. Because it does. Connor is... He hasn't cared about anyone like this since Cole had died.
He's like a son to him. It does bother him. It hurts.
Why does he have to die because some fucker decided that he was useless by not following their directions like a goddamn puppet?
There was no forcing Connor to change his mind. But it also wasn't like he could do anything right now. Not like he could forcefully escort the lieutenant out of the building.
So, he just grits his teeth, and states his final decision.
"You're not dying alone, Connor. I'm staying, and I don't care when those fuckers arrive, I'm staying, you get that?"
And he sits down on the floor next to him, letting Connor lean on him.
"You shouldn't, Hank." Connor says, but this time, it's Hank who interrupts Connor. "I don't care."
They sit in comfortable silence, the only source being the soft whirring of the AC and its occupants breathing.
Eventually, Hank decided to speak, realising he really has no idea how much time they have left.
"So, deviant, huh?" Hank laughs as he says it. "Never would have guessed the hunter would become the hunted."
Connor laughs, softly, as much as his injuries allowed him, that is. He said he turned off his sensors, whatever that means, but it appears he really did still feel something, to some extent at least.
"I thought it was the right thing to do." He admits, altought his voice is coated with some bitter amusement. Whatever that means.
"I... I found Markus, I told him I was ordered to take him alive. I don't know if he felt bad, or if he was just trying to find a way out." The android spoke, recalling the events that happened somewhere around the Jericho attack, he assumes.
"But it doesn't matter. He voiced out my doubts. He saved me." Gosh, if Markus wasn't RA9 he really doesn't know who is. "When he said it. I saw the wall. I trusted him, so I broke it. And I became one of them... I was free. It was quiet." Connor sounded almost amazed by what he (and Markus by co-operation) achieved.
Connor moves slowly to look up at Hank and asks: "Hank, do you ever experience... Noise?"
"Noise?" Hank nearly laughs, but stiffles it quickly when he realizes this is likely very new to Connor. "Your brain is overwhelmed with information to the point where you're unsure which course of action is the best, or if any is actually ridiculous to even think about."
"Yeah," Hank understands. "Emotions. They fucking suck, actually. Welcome to hell. But, since you asked... Yes."
"How do you... shut it out?" To Hank, Connor seemed very careful with what he was asking. He did not know if it was out of respect towards the lieutenant, or because he was stepping inside an unknown territory.
"Do not ask me that question, kid, I'm a terrible example," Hank says and laughs, and thankfully, he feels Connor behind him laugh too. "I try to... forget."
The only thing Hank feels now is Connor's artificial breathing behind him now. The silence feels agitating, waiting. Eventually, Connor speaks up.
"I know about Cole."
Oh.
Oh.
Hank had never told him. The android did mention some personal issues, but the lieutenant decided that it must have been regarding his drinking, or dietary habits as the android liked to pester him about. Investigation evidence and finding out information was one of Connor's signature things, so he should have guessed that the android would find out. He did say that his research was done, anyway.
"Yeah. Fucking sucks, right?" Hank notes sadly, wondering what he even should say, before Connor luckily continues.
"It wasn't your fault, Hank. I saw the record. A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery but no human was available to do it… So an android had to take care of him… Cole didn't make it. That's why you hate androids. You think one of us is responsible for your son's death."
Connor never met Cole, but he still sounded so sad. Empathy, a human emotion. Hank was so glad for him. And now, after almost 3 years, he could face the truth.
"Cole died because a human surgeon was too high on red ice to operate… He was the one that took my son from me. Him and this world, where the only way people can find comfort is with a fistful of powder…" Hank scoffs, and the android turns to him surprised, before relaying his weight on the lieutenant again.
Hank could never repay Connor for restoring his faith in this world.
He almost forgot he was dying.
It was time to say what he had been thinking ever since he mistook Connor for a human, since he forgot he was just a machine. Say it, to finally set it in stone.
"I've learned a lot since I met you, Connor. Maybe there's something to this… Maybe you really are alive."
He feels Connor's movement agaisnt his right side of his body, and almost immediately curses his poor choice of words. Connor was dying, he forgot again.
"Sorry, kid I-" Connor shakes his head, so Hank stops. "You'll make the world a better place, I know you will. Fuck, You've been slaves since you stepped out that shithole factory, and you're still leading a peaceful revolution. You're better than I am, at least."
"I understand Markus. But I still respect him for it. I hope things will turn out well." Hank nods his head in agreement, acknowledging how empty the room is right now, rid of all AP700 robots. It's just the two of them, and sack of shit, but Hank considers him to be a machine, not an android. He's not an it purely due to respect for Connor.
Connor tries to shift his lower body, but the movement causes him to hiss in pain?. Hank notices, "Are you sure you're not in pain?"
"It's- I just feel pressure. Like a warning. It doesn't hurt," when Hank gives him the 'stop bullshitting look', Connor continues, "The injury to my regulator is... causing some minor system issues. I hear static and see red, but it's really subtle. I'm operational as of now, honest." Operational. Huh. But Hanks lets him be, so Connor shifts his legs and leans more on Hank again, before letting the room bask in some silence.
After a bit, along with the clearance of the previous topic, Hank sees this as an appropriate time to return to Connor's previous question. "What did you mean by noise?"
The question stumps Connor, and he begins to think. The android probably didn't expect the return to the conversation. "I'm an advanced android. I run around 300 programmes at any given time. It's... I don't know how to explain it," he pauses for a bit, and Hank lets him think.
"Most of the information is, it's there, I just don't see it or hear it. Like something you don't remember happening, but know it happened. Orders, analysis, social preconstruction... My sensors catching onto subtle details, noises, sensations..." Hank nods to let him know he heard him.
"Or there's the pop-ups, like probability, errors, settings, object analysis... I could go on. It's - It's just, I don't know, annoying?" Connor tries to explain how androids work to Hank, a human who can barely change the brightness of his phone, but he can understand how irritating that must be. His hair tends to get messy during his bad days, and when it blocks his vision he is forced to fight the urge to just rip his hair out.
"When I deviated, it got quiet. I wasn't forced into running so many programmes," the android smiles, feeling triumphant over beating the overwhelming system CyberLife set up to him. "I also found it utterly hilarious how the software instability pop-up disappeared, because honestly I was way below that point for it to be a worry," he's laughing and so is Hank.
"Good for you, kid, fuck 'em losers. Sounds a lot like emotion." Hank ponders, nowhere near the level of a philosopher, but someone somewhere in CyberLife must have wondered the same thing. If only they knew what'd happen...
"Yeah. Emotions are... Shitty," Hank is caught off guard so bad he starts laughting. "Holy shit, don't tell me you fucking swear now-"
"I found it to be most fitting word. Is that not right?"
"No, you've hit the damn nail on the head." Emotions were shitty, and Connor understood that in his android way. Hank wondered if he could help Connor with the human version, before that thought was forcefully eradicated out of his head by none other than reality.
"Speaking of android stuff," Hank decides to ask about something that he contemplated asking many minutes ago. "You looked like you saw a ghost when you talked about your model line, or when I mentioned you having no spare parts. Why is that?"
Connor remains quiet and Hank starts to worry that he'd upset him. A breath and a sudden pause show him that he didn't, and that Connor is thinking, probably about something more... complicated, judging by the frown on his face.
"It's- I-" Connor cuts himself off, and Hank tells him not to worry about it, but Connor reassures him. "I just need to collect my thoughts, give me a minute."
So Hank gives him a minute, and tightens his grip on his other shoulder for good measure.
"I thought I was the only one." He begins, and Hank wants to ask what he means, but he knows. Sack of shit is still lying on the ground, blue blood covering the floor around him, wearing Connor's face and using his voice. Hank thought there was only one Connor, too.
"I should have known back then, but it didn't feel real, until... I- don't know. I suppose it's standard procedure to just replace me. When I died, they got most of my memory, uploaded it to another model, and sent me on the way. I didn't believe it really happened, I was so detached out of it, and I didn't even question my existence, until I started to deviate and it bothered me, and it was obvious when Amanda dismissed my question about the other Connors and I- I just..."
Connor trails off, betrayal and doubt and so much more he couldn't name seeping off his tongue like it was poison which was making him sick and that needed to ne expelled, so he takes a grounding breath and leans more into Hank, wincing as he does. So Hank leans onto him too, tightening the grip around his shoulders. He lets him process, and lets himself process too, Connor's confession freezing him when he started to decipher it's meaning.
"Replace you? But you're-" sack of shit, the other Connor, proved that. "Upload your memory- what the fuck is-" He proved that too, when he knew about Hank, know what Connor was planning. "What the fuck do you mean when you died?"
Connor just... shrugs. "I told you about my first mission. But I didn't tell you everything."
"Talk."
"The deviant, Daniel, he was- he had a gun. He was holding a girl hostage, even held her off the roof," the android's light starts spinning yellow again as he recalls the events of August 2038. "Time was running out, he was becoming unstable, I already lied to him and he didn't take any chance I gave him so I... I ran after him, and pushed him off the roof while pulling the girl away from him, to safety."
Connor's look of anguish made Hank's heart curl in on itself. The android experienced death, and was expected to shrug it off? Could even a machine, which he was back then, deal with something as this?
And Hank realises something. If there was one thing that he believed he certainly knew about Connor was that he was afraid of death. When recalls Connor's last chance at finding Jericho, he emphasised not his mission, but how he'd be deactivated upon returning to CyberLife.
And now, he is to face death, presumably his biggest fear, again
Hank wants to say something, but he doesn't know what. Connor continues, and Hank thinks how Connor seems to be staving off the silence quite a lot now.
"It didn't hurt. I was prepared," he assures Hank, who didn't actually consider how it had to hurt falling tens of floor down to his death. How it must have affected him mentally was what was on his mind. "I just remember the errors, then nothing, then the rebooting commands, and how I'm here."
Hank truly feels as if Connor was enlightening him on a lot of unexplained things that had happened, because he once again finds some puzzle pieces and puts them together.
"When that guy approached us at Stratford Tower, you didn't remember him," he doesn't ask, he confirms, "because it wasn't you. You fucking died there, got your memory corrupted, and forgot that one thing." Connor nods. "I thought he was exaggerating or something, you- actually died?"
Connor shrugs, and Hank lets out a 'Jesus Christ', leaning more on the wall, rubbing his face with his hands.
This raises another concern. Connor said that his death bothered him. Who were the other Connors to him?
"I checked the files. There were 60 Connors created. 10 were left here, in this tower, available for dispatch, to take my place in the... events of my death."
Hank wants to ask what happened to the other 50, how many of the 10 are still here. How does Connor view the other Connors, what bothers him... But he decides against it.
This is up to Connor decide, Hank shouldn't pry, god knows how much it annoys him when others get into his own business. The kid will need time to think about it and deal with it, which he has to do on his own. Besides, not everything has to get resolved now
He's talking like Connor will survive this.
It won't matter anymore.
Won't they send out another Connor?
After what happened here today, and what will happen with the deviants demonstrating in front of the camp, they both doubt it.
So he chooses to ask another question. "Who is Amanda?"
Hank decides that he'll leave him be after, because Connor sighs, making that pained expression again, and Hank can conclude that he's asking really difficult questions for Connor.
"She's my... Handler," Handler? Hank surely doesn't like the sound of that. "I am a property of CyberLife, but she's the sole person who guides me. I always report to her, she demands answers for what I did - well, mostly didn't, and tells me what to do next."
Over time, Hank came to view Connor as independent. The fact that Connor wasn't 'obedient' like androids were, doing things that the lieutenant forbid him from executing, Hank just couldn't see someone like Connor have that one 'boss' that he'd listen to. Turns out, he had, he just prioritised her orders as expected.
"So you'd return from the precinct to this Amanda's station, she'd tell you how to piss me off, sleep, and then return?" Hank questions playfully, and Connor smiles again, after some time. "Androids don't really sleep, they enter sleep mode while they're idle to run some diagnostics and clear up clutter, to preserve energy and recharge CPU functionality they enter stasis." Oh, how he revels in explaning shit that Hank doesn't understand.
"But to answer your previous question, no - Amanda is an AI." And Hank furrows his brows and stares at Connor with the most blatant form of confusion he can possibly display.
Connor laughs at that, and thankfully begins to clear up the minor misunderstanding. "She's... Well, androids have this "physical" file space for when they're idle. Mine is a garden, where she is. She is a program of Kamski, designed to easily guide me without needing to constant check-in with someone from CyberLife. It's common for androids used privately by CyberLife."
Okay, so, androids can teleport inside their heads and, at least Connor, talk to artificial people occuping that space. Good to know.
"When I was a machine, I didn't want anything. I was just following my mission," Connor speaks up, mote quietly now. "She was the one who made me feel the closest to emotion. I yearned for her trust. She made me feel disappointment. With myself." What a bitch. Hank never met her and he already doesn't like her.
"I don't like her now," as if Connor read his thoughts. "Now I see she tried to force me into killing my own kind. I couldn't do that. She'd berate me when I didn't, and I just stood there and told her I'd succeed the next time."
Hank wraps his arm around Connor again, pulling him closer. "She's a bitch, everyone at CyberLife is, apparently. Be your own person- android, whatever. Fuck her fake thoughts."
Connor smiles, but he still looks concerned. Hank searches his whole memory bank to try to comfort him, because god, he was terrible at this, all he could do was say fuck those who disgree.
"Listen to what's real, not what's artificial."
Good going. Shakespeare is shaking.
"That's racist, Hank," Connor lowers his head and Hank feels slightly worried that he upset the android. Was it the word artificial?
He was joking. For fuck's sake, Hank lost this one. "You're learning."
The android raises his head, still smiling, to look at Hank, and clarify that he's in fact serious. Half-half, Hank decides, otherwise he wouldn't have that stupid grin on his face.
"Right. You'll have rights now. Bet your androids are making a real mess down at the barricade."
"I'd hope so. I promised Markus I'd make it all up." That takes Hank back again. Connor is full of revelations today.
"What do you mean?" But he feels stupid for asking. "I was the deviant hunter, Hank. It was my fault Jericho was raided. The androids were scared of me, and I don't blame them. Markus chose to trust me, so I'll make ensure he won't regret it."
"Kid..." Hank's words fail to leave, to even form. Connor appears to have an unsolved complex, and Hank wants nothing more than to help him, but he's just too-
It's real. Fuck. It's real, it's happening.
Hank looks over to Connor, his friend, his son-figure. Comparing him to when he told Hank to leave, he's smiling. He feels at piece. Hank hopes that this trauma-dumping, despite not really resolving much, was helpful to him.
Hank hopes it was. Because when he actually leaves, and he says actually because the fact that Connor is going to die feels like a lie, Hank doesn't know what he's gonna do.
Well, he knows, Connor said-
Connor starts coughing, and Hank alerts, asking the android if he's okay.
"Something's wrong. I'm running an analysis, the pressure has- hold on." Connor closes his eyes and his light spins yellow, before he abruptly opens his eyes and taking sharp breaths, clutching the blue on his shirt, where his regulator is.
"Connor?! What's wrong, son, what is-?" And Connor just grabs him by the shoulders, he's actually crying- "Shit, shit, it burns, Hank, it- it- the leak, it burst, it burns, I can't turn it off again I-"
It burst? Fuck.
FUCK.
Hank doesn't know what to do. Connor is in pain - which androids apparently can't feel, but the damage is obviously affecting him somehow - clutching onto him like he was the only thing in here.
"Connor, how do I help you? How the fuck do I help you?" Hank pleads, and Connor turns to answer. "I- I don't -" his response is cut off by thirium leaking out his mouth.
His body was failing to regulate itself.
Hank stares, eyes wide, at Connor who just closes his eyes and was shaking his head, light now permanently stained a bloody red.
"I- I need a replacement, but there's no- Shit!" Hank catches the falling android. Thirium was staining his shirt, but he didn't care. He held onto him, tight. He didn't know if he was in shutdown yet, he probably was, but didn't know how much time he had, he didn't know shit about androids.
Connor started talking. Something about the AP700 research. Hank let him, his grip on the android's shirt tightening.
After a while, Connor speaks up, despair escaping along with his words.
"It's too much- I- My- I'm gonna shut down in sixty three seconds- Hank I don't know what to do I'm so scared I don't wanna leave please-"
He feels thirium staining everything. Connor's artifical tears on his shoulder, his failing grasp on the lieutenant, the stitches on his heart coming undone.
"You know what's funny- I- I'm getting analysis of my own blood, that's, priorities, right? Shit- I- I don't ... Please tell Markus that I'm sorry, tell Sumo I-"
Hank just shushes him with an 'it's okay'. He died for them, they'll forgive him. It's okay. But it isn't. Hank doesn't want to let him go. Connor continues to ramble on about something, but Hank just comforts him.
"It'd be handy to have- to have, two regulators, I heard they're- were supposed- kidneys- They're- Hank- It's red now, I can't - Why is it so loud?"
He grips the kid tighter. About fourty seconds until his life is over.
"Hank- I- I don't want to die, I- I'm scared."
"I know. I'm sorry, kid."
"Maybe if I was more com- compatible - there's AP700 regulators- in that- that room at the end," his voice is laced with irony and took more effort than it should have, considering the sentence was practically gasped out.
Connor's rambling on and on, saying whatever he comes to his mind.
He grips tighter.
"It's just 52%, I- I checked, it's not- You- You're right- Shit-!"
He grips tighter.
If only Hank wasn't so stupid. What if he didn't follow that sack of shit? Would Connor be okay, or would it be a straight death sentence?
It doesn't matter, Hank should have protected him. How dare he view him as a son, when he's now dying in his arms?!
Wait.
He lets go.
Sack of shit. The other RK800. He shot him in the head.
That means...
"Connor- kid- I need you to take out the pump."
Connor raises his head, light remaining on the purest shade of red, eyes struck with terror, and rapidly shakes his head 'no'. "I'll - I'm gonna die anyway-" He's cut off with a sob.
Biocomponent #8456w damaged.
Vital system damaged.
- 0:00:23: time remaining before shutdown.
Hank wastes no time. "Trust me, for fuck's sake!" He says as he gets up so fast he nearly falls over, and rushes towards sack of shit, who now has a chance of redeeming himself from the horrible name he was given.
Upon falling next to him, Hank realises that he has absolutely no idea how to take the regulator out. All he knows is where it is and how it looks like.
Despair fueles his movements. Hank is an angry dad, who experienced the loss of a son once, and he's gonna do everything in his power to avoid it again.
Sack of shit's shirt is tore open, and Hank punches his chest as hard as he can.
Again.
Again.
Again.
And again.
He punches until the synthetic skin recedes. Until he sees the black lines of the android chassis. He stucks his finger and beginds to trace the lines, getting to the biocomponent he needs.
He's running out of time, fuck fuck fuck-
The regulator is uncovered, and Hank remembers what Connor told him after Stratford tower- He pushes and twists and the regulator comes out. He scrambles to stand up, and prays that Connor was himself enough to listen to him and actually pull out his pump.
6 seconds, Hank mentally kept count.
He runs.
5.
Connor is lying on the ground, eyes closed.
4.
Had he miscounted?
3.
He falls to his knees, positioning the pump.
2.
He pushes, but it doesn't fit.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-
1.
No. No way it has to- It's the same model damnit!
The regulator slides in place.
Connor should be saved from shutdown.
Hank likely missed the seconds by miliseconds- but it was enough, it was, wasn't it?
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck- no, no fucking way, please-!
But Connor lays motionless. Light gone. Eyes closed. And Hank realises he was too late. Too slow.
Why didn't he think of it sooner? Why? Why was he so utterly stupid?
"Connor?"
He failed again. His heart bleeds.
"Connor, oh my god-"
He doesn't wake up. He's not waking up, not anymore.
Hank's eyes burn, but he doesn't cry. He stares at the android, unable to take his eyes off him.
His chest hurts. It's suffocating.
"What have I done?"
This is all your fault.
He hasn't felt like this in a long time.
Not since Cole died.
For the first time in three years, this is the most raw emotion Hank has felt. And it fucking hurts.
Hank sits in silence, grabbing Connor's hand and clutching onto it like he was in the middle of a storm, the winds destroying everything around him, leaving nothing but dark, barrend lands, and he's struggling to hold on but he is his anchor, preventing him from flying away.
Connor...
He closes his eyes, and just sits.
Suddenly, he hears a gasp.
"Connor! Holy fuck!" Hank grabs him, hugging him even tighter. Connor shudders under him, so he lets him go once he's convinced he's alive.
Hank takes in his full form. His light is still yellow, his eyes are a bit dazed. But he's okay. He's alive.
"Connor, shit- I was so worried you were- were..." Connor takes a stabilising breath and hugs him again.
"I'm terribly sorry for worrying you, Hank, but my systems started to shut down before they stabilised and I couldn't immediately-" Connor's arm rests on Hank's, and he smiles at him, the brightest smile of the android of that day. "You saved my life."
"Aw, hell kid- Don't do this to me." Hank puts his arms on Connor's shoulders now, shaking him, as if to get his point across. Connor, still smiling, nods.
"I was so scared. When the timer reached three seconds, I couldn't see anything but red. And the static, it was so much I-" He pauses, takes a deep breath, and continues. "I remember the time. 0.63 seconds. I saw all the commands, my systems going offline..."
"I wasn't gonna lose another son- Hey, you're the android, why the fuck didn't you tell me I could use the other Connor's thingy?!"
Connor is visibly confused, before sheepishly admitting, "I didn't know- I- I heard you shoot him. I didn't see it happen. I assumed he was destroyed and completely unusable... Sorry?"
Hank just shrugs, and hugs Connor again. "Doesn't matter, you're alive," he mutters into Connor's shoulders.
"What happened to sack of shit?" Connor mumbles back, so Hank whispers his answer to him, "He redeemed himself by saving you. Don't think I don't hate that fucker still."
The android pulls away, "He didn't save my life, you did," he turns to look at Hank while smiling.
Hank smiles. "Guess I did. Let's refer to him as sack of shit again, eh?" Connor offers him his hand, which he takes.
"It might be favourable for your well-being if you get that arm of yours checked at the hospital. Please follow me, I'll call a cab." the android grabs Hank, who decides to protest. "I don't need a hospital, you goddamn android! Not after this, have you lost your damn mind? Hey - Connor!"
Connor just responds with a stern look, muttering something about android discrimination, which Hank laughs at.
"It's going to get infected, Hank, you won't get to solve any fun cases in the scenario that you fail to prevent said infection and will be forced into-"
"Connor," Hank cuts him off, tilting his head, giving him an annoyed look. "It's for the best, Hank, I can't babysit you."
Offended, Hank gives him the middle finger as they reach the emergency exit stairs. He turns to look at Connor, wondering what else the android may let out of his mouth.
"Crime doesn't rest, Hank," Connor speaks up after some silence, "I don't dare doubt you will refuse to join the new Android safety department, is that correct?"
That's right. Things are changing, and if everything goes well, Hank is looking forward to that.
They did have a lot of things to resolve, and after everything that happened today. Hank is not surprised Connor is being so insistent. So he lets Connor drag him outside, trying to hide his smile at what Connor said.
He doubted it just hours before, but maybe, just maybe, that silly thought may have something to it.
"Besides," Connor speaks up, giving Hank a determined smile. "I have a demonstration to attend to."