Ancestry
For a week, it was all anyone was talking about. A combination of infiltrations, cyber attacks, and public outcries has forced CyberLife to reveal for the very first time how their androids functioned. But it wasn't the blueprints for biocomponents and androids that peaked everybody's interest. What peaked everyone's interest were a few short, innocuous statements on one of the android blueprints revealing that every single android was based on a living, breathing person who had donated their appearance to CyberLife to use once they passed away.
The media feasted on it like hounds. Investigations were led to discover who these original people were. Android began to call these people their 'ancestors' and the name stuck. The hunt for the ancestors began, turning on its head what everybody thought about androids. It was revealed that most of the ancestors donated their appearance for a hefty sum, with the largest amount of ancestors appearing a couple years back. Because these ancestors were usually unemployed and poor, the androids felt pity. In Jericho's first public appearance after the liberation of the androids, they arranged to meet with the families of these ancestors and gave small gifts.
A way to honour those who had lost their life so that we could live, Markus proclaimed confidently on TV.
Most of the ancestors had been found but not all of them. The origins of the prototypes remained a mystery. CyberLife was unusually quiet when it came to the ancestors of the prototypes and public opinion for the company went south after that admission. A cyber attack later confirmed why they did not speak.
CyberLife had no records on them. CyberLife didn't know.
It should not have bothered Connor but it did. Like the other deviants, he felt lost and confused and he had hoped that by tracing his origins, finding his ancestor, it might help him in the quest for his own identity.
Don't get him wrong, he liked working as a detective. He liked being able to use his abilities to solve the mysteries and crimes of the world. He chose to continue his former career and work alongside Lieutenant Anderson after all. That was his freedom. And yet he hoped for something unique. Something that made him feel…human. He hoped finding his ancestor might give him some ideas.
That was how Connor came to spend his lunch break researching the ancestors. After all, he had no need to eat or drink and since Hank had recently acquired a hand-me-down android charger for home use, he didn't need to rest either. While everyone else ate and drank and chat, Connor spent that free time searching through files, combing through the police records in the hopes of catching that elusive John Doe, the original human Connor.
No one but Hank knew that he was doing this. Technically, Connor held no authority to browse through the police records for such a personal reason but Hank turned a blind eye and gave Connor temporary lieutenant access to the files every day during lunch break. Connor never failed to thank the lieutenant for his generosity.
"Yeah yeah, if it'll stop you hassling me all the time." Hank would say in a gruff manner, a smile peeking out from his untrimmed beard.
So Connor looked through the files. He looked and looked but found nothing. He managed to get Hank's keycard to access the original written records from decades ago in hopes there might be something there but there was still nothing. Dead end after dead end after dead end greeted him. Connor figured the flash of heat he felt under his skin every time he encountered another dead end was the android equivalent of annoyance.
"Hey, Connor, come here."
Connor looked over his desk to Hank, who was gesturing for him to come over. His lips twisted into a frown. He didn't want to taken away from his own private investigation—it's been at least two weeks and he was sure he was getting close—but Hank seemed serious. With a loud sigh, Connor slowly got up from his seat and walked over to Hank.
"What is it, Lieutenant?"
"Look."
Connor peered over Hank's shoulder as he minimized a screen and the android's mouth went agape. It was him. John Doe, the human Connor. His ancestor. He turned to Hank, wanting to say something but in that second his speech processor was malfunctioning. Too much data was being transmitted to his throat.
"Meet your ancestor, Daniel Burne."
He could feel a soft thud in his chest. "Daniel?" Memories of the hostage situation replayed in his mind, the bleeding android broken down with a look of pure and utter betrayal as the bullet ripped through him.
"Connor?" Hank snapped his fingers near the android's ears.
He shook his head violently. "S-sorry, Lieutenant. I know someone called Daniel and my memory played the last time I met them."
"Well obviously that Daniel is different to this Daniel." Hank paused before gesturing to the screen. "What'd you think?"
Connor stared fascinated. In front of him was the paused header of a video, his ancestor's face staring seriously into the camera in a pink and red shirt. Daniel's hair was curly and a darker brown and the wrinkles in his forehead more pronounced but it was definitely Connor's face. A quick analysis processed an error message, providing information on both himself and Daniel Burne. It was definitely his ancestor, Connor realised.
"H-How did you find this?" Connor managed to squeak.
"On a hunch, I checked the social media accounts Kamski had in his teens to early adulthood. You said he made an android in the likeness of his mentor and I thought: if the bastard can make an android based on one person he knew, what are the chances he made another android based on a friend or family member? I didn't find anything on Kamski's account but it gave me the idea to check the rest of the old social media sites of that time."
"And you found him? My ancestor?"
"With a bit of help from the techies, yeah. We looked through the old social media websites and put your face through some fancy facial analyzing software." Hank pointed at the screen. "That's how we found Daniel's page here. He hadn't been using it so it got shut down but we did a bit of digging and managed to retrieve some of his stuff. We did our best but all we got were a couple of bad selfies and this video."
Hank paused to look at the screen.
"Do you want me to send you this stuff?"
Connor could have screamed and hug the lieutenant but he knew Hank's stance on 'public affection' (as he so called it) was a big fat "hell no" so Connor remained where he stood. How he'd love to go through this stuff and figure out who Daniel was, what happened to him, his story. At the same time however, Hank had put in a lot of effort to find this. How long had he been working on this without Connor's knowledge? How long had he been doing this?
"I haven't looked at any of the stuff myself. All I read was Daniel's file." Hank said. "Do you want that too?"
Connor smiled gratefully. "For all the effort you put in for me, the least I can do is go through this with you." Connor leaned forward, resting his arms on the back of the chair. "Mind giving me the gist?"
Hank's lips curled up. " 'Course not."
Hank brought back the original screen. It featured an older Daniel, aged now in his 40s. The words DECEASED were written in red font.
"Daniel Burne. Born in Utah and moved to Detroit when he was around seven." Hank said. "Graduated Michigan State and got himself a job as a vet around his late 20s but something happened and the clinic he worked in got shut down. Remained unemployed for the rest of his life."
"And he donated his identity for CyberLife?"
Hank nodded. "Like everyone else he got promised a hell of a lot of money if he gave his appearance to CyberLife and clearly, he went through with it if this bank statement's correct. After that he disappeared off the face of the earth doing god knows what and then…well…" Hank frowned. "I don't know if I should say this."
"If you're asking me if I want to know how he died…yes. I would like to know." It seemed essential information, after all.
Hank paused for a few seconds before scrolling down so they both could see the incident report, skipping past Daniel's lengthy criminal record. "With no income, he became a red ice dealer. One of his clients got too hooked on the drug though and started to attack him bare-handed. As you can see, Daniel didn't survive."
As Hank scrolled down, Connor caught a glimpse of Daniel's post-mortem picture. Daniel's hair in that picture was a lot longer and a lot more shaggy, not unlike Hank's hair. Stubble peppered his chin while scratch and claw marks covered his face. Despite the harsh lighting and his dark, sunken eyes, Connor couldn't help but think Daniel looked peaceful in death. Like he was merely asleep, lending his conscious to another body and leaving the original body behind.
"He died a year and a bit ago." Hank added. "That corresponds to you being built, right?"
Connor nodded. "That would be correct."
"So CyberLife waited for him to die so that they could use his appearance for you? Gotta admit, that sounds fucked up."
"It is…" Connor remarked grimly. "Imagine the other families, seeing their loved one walking down the street in an android shell. They must have been horrified."
The android wondered what it would be like to be human and to age. Would he look like that, short hair sprouting from his chin, hair frizzy and wild? Probably not. Unlike Daniel, Connor actually cared about his appearance. He supposed that was a unique trait of his amongst the androids, this program in his system that told him he must look presentable at all opportunities. But vanity in and of itself couldn't define a person. What kind of person was he outside of the constraints of his programming?
Connor shook that thought away. The answer, it seemed, remained elusive. "Is there any next of kin for Daniel?"
Hank twirled his chair around. "You wanna get them a gift like the other androids?"
"It would be nice. But more importantly, I would like to talk to them. Maybe learn more about Daniel."
"Unfortunately, he had none." Hank turned back and scrolled upward to confirm. "Mom and dad died couple years back, no other relatives listed. His home, as well as the parents' home, both have new owners. Needless to say his stuff's probably long gone by now." He closed the tab and brought back the social media account. "This is all that's left of him."
Connor frowned. A police record, a few selfies and a video, that was all that was left of his ancestor, and so far it seemed like Daniel wasn't a very nice person. A lot of the other androids claimed they felt a link to their ancestor, as if a piece of the human's soul was within their metal shells, and Connor hoped to be a part of that collective. Those androids found guidance in the knowledge that they were once someone else. Connor envied them for finding their own way.
Logically, the police record would be the most accurate representation out of the three pieces of evidence for Daniel's character and yet Connor still wanted to look at the selfies and videos. Records were rarely wrong, he knew from his own search into his ancestor, but maybe he wished it was wrong. Maybe he wished his ancestor was a better person.
Connor leaned past Hank to bring up the folder containing the photos himself.
There were four photos, all selfies as Hank described, their pixelated icons doing them no justice in their icon format. One by one, Connor opened them up and swiped through them. The first picture was of Daniel at a random park, smiling brilliantly into the camera. Connor swiped. The second picture was Daniel and an unknown woman. The picture was taken at a higher angle, showing off the pair's clean suit and bright satin dress respectively. His arm was around her waist. His smile was the same. Connor swiped.
"You know, this IS my computer and I ain't dumb enough to not know how to look through pictures." Hank harrumphed.
Connor ignored Hank as he regarded the third picture. It was Daniel sitting in what Connor assumed was his living room sofa. A Balinese cat sat in his lap, gazing in boredom off to the distance. Daniel did not smile into the camera this time but to the cat instead, his head titled to one side, his hand mid-scratch on the cat's head.
"Cute cat." Hank commented.
"I suppose it is."
Hank looked up at Connor. "Not a cat person?"
"I'll know once I see one. But from first impressions alone?" Connor smiled to himself. "I think I am."
Connor wondered in that moment what a cat would act like. He definitely liked animals—or at the very least Sumo—and it wasn't too much of a stretch of the mind for Connor to imagine owning a cat. As tempting a prospect it was to own a pet of his own, he'd rather wait until he had a place of his own, or at least somehow convince Hank to get a cat. From his current knowledge on the lieutenant, the latter seemed unlikely. Hank Anderson was a creature of habit and Connor's sudden intrusion into his life sent his system spiraling into territory uncharted.
"Whoa, check this out."
Connor turned to the screen to see that Hank had already swiped to the final picture. In it was Daniel, his cheeks smooshed together next to Kamski of all people. Daniel's smile was different, a bit more mischievous looking while Kamski rolled his eyes, his own smile playing on his lips.
"So Daniel was a friend of Kamski after all." Hank chuckled to himself. "Son of a gun."
"I'm surprised Kamski didn't mention it the last time we met him." Connor commented.
"You've seen the guy, that man's got shady bastard written all over him." Hank scoffed as he twirled back around in his chair to look up at Connor. "Not like he was gonna give us any information. You didn't shoot Chloe after all."
"Yes, well, I'm not entirely happy either that my ancestor was hanging out with a man who surrounded himself with the same type of android."
"I find that a bit ironic coming from you."
Connor could feel his LED turn red. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Look, love is love, and if Kamski likes his women pale, blonde, and made out of metal, who are we to judge?"
Connor crossed his arms. "Still, that many of them?"
"Trust me, if I could get multiple copies of the perfect woman to accompany me in paradise, I'd be in bliss."
Connor raised an eyebrow.
Hank shrugged. "I'm just saying. That's a lotta guys' fantasy. He's just one of the lucky fucks who turned it into a reality."
"Really? Wouldn't it get boring quickly, only being able to talk to one person?"
"I said the perfect woman for a reason. If it was you," Hank jabbed his finger into Connor's chest, "it'd be fucking annoying."
"And here I thought we shared something special. I am hurt, lieutenant." Connor smirked ironically.
Hank rolled his eyes. "I mean it. You bring back another one of you Connors, you're both on the street." Hank shook his head as he massaged his brow ridge. "It's already a headache having just one Connor in my house. Imagine two."
"Well for one, you will need another charging station. And you'll also need to fill out a form stating you have two RK800s living in your premises instead of one."
"Don't remind me of paperwork, I still gotta finish the report from the last case we did."
"You haven't finished it?" Hank gave him a look that confirmed the status of the report. That status was unfinished. "Are you sure you don't want me to help? After all, we were both working that case together."
"You know I can't. Jeffrey would get on my ass faster than you could see 'enema'. Besides which, you got your own forms to complete, don't you?"
"Unlike you, lieutenant, I actually get work done instead of, say, chatting up Officer Chen in the break room two days ago."
"Oh yeah? Well unlike you, I got a life outside of my job."
It was clear from his body language and tone that Hank meant it as a joke and not a malicious insult. Still, it brought up a new emotion in Connor. It felt as if the thirium pump in his body got damaged. He felt hurt. His processing unit was quick to explain Hank's intentions but it still damaged him inside somehow. It was an uncalled for comment, but more than that it was absolutely true: he did not have a life outside of Hank and the DPD.
No, surely Connor had something outside of work. Like taking care of Sumo, for example. Yes! Yes, he did that. Sumo was a big dog that definitely needed exercise and…no, that didn't really count. He only did it because Hank was too lazy to give the dog its recommended exercise. Come to think of it, the other things that bring him joy in life—music, sports, swearing—that was all Hank's doing. Instinctively or purposefully, he took on Hank's habits. Everything else unique about him, that was his original programming. That was his original design.
Was there nothing unique about him? Was there nothing extraordinary about him?
"…Connor?"
He can feel the whirr of the red LED on his right temple. He briefly wondered how long it had remained red but he couldn't bring himself to care enough to make it stop. What's the point of autonomy if he was just going to do the same thing he was programmed to do anyway? What's the point of freedom if you choose to stay in your comfort zone?
"Connor! Snap out of it."
He barely missed Hank's slap, just barely feeling the brush of Hank's fingertips on his nose. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"Jesus Christ, what got you conked out?"
Connor's lips tightened. The questions processing in his mind were too complex for him to answer so what was the point of asking Hank? The lieutenant didn't need to know. "Let's just watch the video."
Hank frowned. "You don't look so good."
"Since when you did consider me good looking?" Connor smiled but it lacked the same intensity. His social relations program kicked in to pick up the slack. "Let's watch the video."
Hank's eyebrows rose. "You really sure about that?"
"There really is no need to be concerned for my wellbeing." Connor shook his head. "I am fine. And if I am being honest, I am curious about this video. It'll mark the end of my own investigation. Maybe it'll give me some insight into Daniel's character."
"I guess," Hank murmured. "What'll you do with all this info?" Hank asked.
"I don't know." Connor admitted. "On the one hand it would be nice to honour Daniel for facilitating my creation but at the same time, I'm not so sure I want to create a memorial for a drug dealer with a dubious reputation. I'm not completely sure what kind of person he is. It's not like he has family I could help."
"You do realize you don't have to do anything for the guy. It's not like you owe him anything."
"I suppose I don't." Connor sighed. "Still, it'd be nice to have someone to look up to. I had hoped Daniel might become a good role model for me."
Hank's expression darkened as he turned back to the computer. "I see."
Connor detected an increase in stress levels in Hank's body but he cannot determine the reason. Was it something he said? He hoped not. It was the honest truth and Hank liked honesty and truth. A video clip of Hank eating fast food out of spite played in Connor's mind. Well…Hank liked honesty and truth most of the time.
"Still want me to play this video?" Hank's mouse hovered above the play button.
Connor leaned on the chair. He let out a breath he didn't think he was holding. In front of him was Daniel's static face. Soon it will be moving. Talking. Feeling. "Ready when you are."
The video took a few seconds to load. The old social media website and the modern systems were incompatible and it seemed as if the system was struggling to comprehend the old video file. But the bar was filling up and Hank maximized the window, waiting for the video to finish loading. The grainy footage quickly came to life.
From the right of a nondescript wall scuttled Daniel, wearing a crab costume, complete with crab claws. This video must have been done in his youth, no older than 20, but Connor was more confused by the crab costume. In the video header, it looked so much like a shirt.
Soft piano music can be heard as Daniel crossed his arms, making the other crab 'arms' fold to his body as well. "Yeah. I'm crabby. And you wanna know why?" Daniel turned to another camera. "Because I have crabs!"
"H-Holy shit!" Hank was already laughing.
Connor's jaw dropped. Warning signs were blaring in the corner of his eye but he was just too horrified at the sight before him. They didn't just take Daniel's appearance, he realized, they took his voice too. That was Connor's voice coming out of the speakers, spoken by a man with his face. Fire flashed beneath his cheeks and he worried for a second that he was overheating.
Daniel's hands moved animatedly. "That's right. I thought it would be all fun and games to go to MEXICO with a HOOKER named 'Los Cangrejos'." Daniel turned around to another camera. "It turns out, in Spanish that means: THE. CRABS. I paid 700 DOLLARS! FOR THE CRABS‼"
Hank was howling in front of Connor, which only brought more attention to the audio. Connor wished he could turn down the volume control but Hank's hand was firmly on the mouse and there was little chance of Connor stealing the mouse away before the video ended. The android could only shuffle awkwardly on the balls of his feet and hope none of his colleagues heard any of this.
"So the next time you think to yourself, hey. I'll have sex with a woman whose name, in that language, means 'The crabs'? Maybe you'll open up your traveler's dictionary."
Daniel raised his arms indignantly, highlighting the absurdity of his crab costume.
"…But hey." He ended on a quieter note. "Now you know."
Daniel scuttled away as the piano did its final few notes. There was a moment of quiet as Hank took in a quiet breath. Quiet chuckles could be heard.
Connor took in the creases that framed Hank's face, the way his cheeks pulled tightly across his face. Hank was a volcano ready to explode. "Er…Hank?" Connor asked.
Hank erupted in a roar of laughter.
He leaned back in his chair, hands on his stomach as he cackled maniacally. Tears streaked down his face, a rosy glow appeared on his face that Connor, for once, couldn't attribute to inebriation. The commotion brought in a few officers who thought Hank was having an attack of some kind but Connor tried to reassure them that Hank was fine. Every word that came out of Connor's mouth however only made Hank's laugh stronger than ever and Hank's laughter only fueled the sinking feeling in Connor's gut. The officers did eventually leave, but it had less to do with Connor's excuse and more to do with the fact that they didn't wish to interrupt whatever the hell was happening.
When Hank finally calmed down, sleeves roughly wiping the tears off his eyes, his eyes shone with intent.
"I'm fucking showing everybody this video." He wheezed.
Connor squeezed himself in between Hank and the computer, his hand firmly grasping the lieutenant's wrist so Hank could not move. Heat seemed to erupt from his core, threatening to take control of his programming but there were no overheating warnings in sight. He couldn't let anyone see that video. No one could see that video. This was humiliation. He will not allow himself to lose face.
"Connor, come on, let me go. It's funny."
"I am not allowing you to show this to anyone else."
"Why not? For one, it's hilarious. And second of all, fuck you."
"No, fuck you, Hank." Connor pushed the chair back slightly. Hank stood up and tried to reach for the mouse again but Connor blocked Hank once again. His eyes went wild and frenzied. For that brief moment, Hank's rank breath right in front of Connor's face, he remembered just how tall and strong Hank really was underneath the 29% body fat that lied beneath his skin.
"What the hell's your problem?" Hank gestured to the computer. "It's a fucking video, and it's not even about you."
"He looks and sounds enough like me. I really don't want that video to spread around the station house." He could feel the part of his processing unit that made up the common sense and logic module ping a low activity warning but he actively chose to ignore it.
"Fucking hell, it's just a video. We've all got funny embarrassing shit online but you gotta get used to it." Hank moved to grab the mouse again but Connor swatted his arm away. "Connor…" Hank growled.
"Don't do this."
"It's. Just. A. Video!"
"But it's a video with my ancestor on it. And if I am anything like that man—"
"Who fucking cares if he looks like you?!"
Connor stepped back, nearly bumping into the desk behind him. Does Hank not understand? That was him, Daniel was Connor, and if there's any truth to the belief that an ancestor's soul was within the androids that took their appearance, then Connor got the bottom of the barrel. Hank saw a man in a crab costume but Connor saw himself, and if that's what he was, then he was not happy.
Connor shoved his way past Hank, LED blazing red as his shoulder clipped Hank's arm. His programming urged him to apologise for his rash behaviour but he paid it no heed as he walked away, his hands balled up into fists.
"Where the hell are you goin'?!" Hank called out to him.
"Out!" Connor shouted. "And don't follow me!"
His bionic ears barely picked up Hank's ranting mutters as he walked out the front door. "Fucking hell," stood out as particularly poignant.
Once he stepped out into the snow did he realized the stupidity of his actions. He was out in the cold with nothing but his CyberLife suit and a whole lot of pent-up something coursing through his veins. Not that he felt the cold, nor did it bother him (that particular sentence stirred something in Connor's memory banks), but it was still an inconvenience in the maintenance procedure for his body.
Worse yet, Connor just walked out of his job just as the lunch break ended and he had nowhere to go. He didn't want to go back. Not with Hank 1.02 metres away from his desk with that smug smile of his. Connor knew Hank must have already sent that video to the whole precinct, if not to his private circle of friends. He cursed at himself for not thinking to hack Hank's computer when he had the chance. It would save him the shame when he did return.
First thing's first, Connor decided, he needed to 'chillax', as his new updated dictionary provided. With no idea how to 'chillax', Connor decided to just walk. Walk and figure out what to do when he did return to the police station. He hoped the human psychologists whose articles he briefly scanned were right about physical activity increasing one's mood. He would need it.
The wind picked up as Connor aimlessly walked down the pathway, passing by abandoned shop after abandoned shop. The evacuation period had been long gone but there was still a lot of tension between the anti-android supporters, who thought it better to remain outside of Detroit. Crime increased drastically as a result, which had partially contributed to Connor's swift return to the force. It would've been a good time to analyse the city and the citizens, acquire some new information that might prove beneficial for future investigations. Investigations, solving mysteries, those were his passions but even that didn't entice the android.
As Connor walked by, he passed by a shop window and the sight of his own reflection made him stop. Snow flaked his hair like dandruff as it gently fell down to earth. His LED flashed red, the colour not changing once as he stared at it. His once-pristine suit was now covered in specks of white and despite how futile the action was, he attempted to wipe the flecks off anyway. When new snow fell onto his shoulders and arms, he let out a groan of frustration and instead tried to fix his slack tie. But the cold air had made his metal joints shrink, making him clumsier, uncoordinated.
"Stupid…fucking…" Connor didn't finish that sentence as he redirected more of his processing power to his hands. That extra processing power helped him slide the tie back to its correct position but he also felt angry that he needed to put this much effort to fix such a tiny piece of cloth. Cold may not bother androids but some were better suited to work outdoors in extreme climate conditions and Connor was NOT one of those androids. With a loud sigh, he shook his head and just stared at his reflection.
Once upon a time, a human named Daniel stared at his own reflection. He must've, it was after all a common human instinct. Connor wondered if Daniel felt this fire inside that threatened to burn him from the inside out. This was anger, right? That was the obvious answer but Connor felt there was more to this anger, a deeper darker meaning that hid at the base of the flames. He wondered if humans thought about their emotions in this manner, trying to figure out its secret meanings and hidden messages. Did Daniel look at himself and think these things?
The reflection gave him no answers.
On a whim, Connor brought Daniel's photo up on his hand and compared them to his face. The obvious differences (their hair, their personalities, their mannerisms) stood out but as Connor began to compare his reflection to the photos, more differences cropped up. Connor's eyes were rgb (50,30,22) under studio lighting, known more commonly as 'chocolate brown' yet Daniel's eyes were lighter, a shade described as 'sienna'. Connor's nose was built differently and his eyes were set back more but what surprised Connor the most was that he couldn't replicate Daniel's smile. He tried to replicate it, tried as hard as he could but it didn't seem sincere. It didn't look human.
"Come on, Connor, I know you're upset," he mumbled to himself, already a warning sign that he was going insane, "but you were designed to do this. You can mimic any voice in the world, mimic any facial expression in your database, but you can't mimic a photo of someone that looks just like you?"
He stared helplessly at the reflection, which still did not provide him any answers.
Connor sighed loudly. "Hank probably knows how. He's awfully in tune with humanity's traits and quirks."
The logic system had kicked in and prompted a single objective: TALK TO HANK. Connor hated to admit defeat but it was probably the best option. Hank was his partner and friend. He might not understand what Connor was feeling right now but he might have some advice. At the very least, it might make him less angry. He did admire the lieutenant's skills. He did look up to Hank.
A clip from earlier played in his memory. Connor said he hoped for Daniel to be a good role model and Hank frowned…Oh. That was why Hank was upset earlier. Implying he had no one to look up to negatively impacted his relationship with Hank.
"Fuck." Connor whispered.
He'll have to return to the stationhouse later when he's finally gained full control of his mental facilities and confront Hank. Until then, Connor will aimlessly wander the streets of Detroit, hoping something or someone will come his way and bring forth the epiphany he was hoping for. If his emotions were the storm, he hoped there would be warmth and sunshine soon.
It was late in the evening when Connor finally returned to the stationhouse. Hank would've left by now, as would have most of the day shift detectives and the nightshift people had yet to come so it was emptier than usual. Connor had hoped he would have calmed down by now but every time he looked into the reflection he was reminded of the two Daniels, and being reminded of the two Daniels never failed to decrease his mood. He'll have to talk to Hank later. He was only in the station to pick up some of his files and leave. That was the plan at least, but it all changed as he approached his desk and saw Hank sitting glumly in his chair.
Hank was looking through Connor's computer. It didn't take long for Connor to analyse and see that Hank was looking through his notes on ancestors. Hank's brows were permanently furrowed, his lips thin as he read.
Once Connor approached the desk, he cleared his throat loudly. Hank turned the computer off and looked blankly at Connor. "So you finally show up."
Connor frowned. "I can explain—"
"You stormed out in the middle of your shift going god knows where doing god knows what, leaving me to fucking cover for you." Hank jabbed his thumb at Captain Fowler's office. "Lucky for you, I told Fowler you needed some emergency repairs. Tomorrow, Fowler will call you to his office. You might get a disciplinary report on you or a warning depending on how he's feeling."
"Thanks, Hank. And…sorry."
Hank sighed. "There's a lot of stuff about everyone's past we're not proud of. Some of them get lost in time and do nothing. Others, they haunt you for the rest of your life. You know that already, don't you?"
Connor's gaze turned to the ground.
"Then you know that they don't have to define you. Daniel may look like you and sound like you but he ain't you. There's only one Connor, one you, and you're the second most annoying asshole I know outside of Gavin."
Connor couldn't help but chuckle. "A tolerable asshole, at least."
"More than tolerable." Hank opened his mouth to say more on the subject but instead he shook his head. "Look, I don't know what's got your nonexistent nipples twisted and you don't need to tell me it's just…" Hank frowned, "…sorry for putting it out without your permission. It was a dick move."
"Calling it a dick move would be understatement." Connor sighed. A quick analysis of Hank's biometrics showed moderate stress. He didn't realize this was eating up Hank so much, he didn't realize the lieutenant had been stressing over it for so long. Did Hank wait here just for him? He stayed behind late just to wait for him?
He'd truly be heartless if he wasn't at least a little touched by this. To think he didn't believe Hank worthy of the truth.
"The reason why I didn't want the video out was because I was lost." Connor explained. "I had hoped for some guidance and I thought finding my ancestor would inspire me. But all I found was a drug dealing vet who sold his soul for some quick cash and that…that made me angry."
Frustration began to boil at his throat but Connor willed it down as best as he could. "I didn't want to be associated with Daniel. Our similarities were only paper-thin but at the same time I couldn't stop comparing myself to him. I went from hoping Daniel could guide my actions to hoping I was nothing like him. If I'm being completely honest, I was and I still am scared of becoming like the deviants we first investigated. Scared, confused, a prisoner of my own past. I thought me being here, doing the same thing I would have done if I remained a machine, well…I thought I was no better than them."
Connor sat on his desk and gazed at the police androids in sleep mode. "What use is freedom if I do the same thing I always did?"
"Fucking hell, you can be so dumb sometimes."
Connor blinked. "Huh?"
"You think you're the only one who thinks that? Connor, there are millions of teenagers alone who wonder the same fucking thing. There are men and women my age who still haven't figured out what the hell they want in life. Every single human on Earth has compared themselves to someone else. Every single human on Earth has wondered if there's more to their life than endless seven day cycles of work, food, and sleep. You're not fucking alone. But you've got something none of those other people do."
"What is that?"
"You've got an android body that ain't gonna age, all the time in the world to figure it all out, and you're smart. You'll know what you want sooner or later." Hank stood up and dug his hands into his pockets. A rosy blush crept up his face. "If you're still stuck though, well I'm…I mean, I'll try but er…I can help. O-only if you want me to though."
There was truth to Hank's words. Connor had all those things but more importantly, he had someone to help him through it. He liked solving puzzles and mysteries. Maybe discovering his place in the world, that will be his greatest, longest mystery, and the best thing is that the mystery won't stop there. Once that elusive answer finally reaches his data bank, he'll have time to make it reality. Not the life plan Connor had hoped for but then again it was a start. A start was better than nothing, and it was all thanks to Hank.
"T-thanks, Hank." Connor smiled gratefully. Something seemed to be emitting from his tear ducts. It was blocking his visual feed. Connor wiped his eyes to discover a clear liquid with a chemical composition similar to saline solution.
"D-don't go sentimental on me." Hank stammered, his eyes reddening already. "I ain't good with this kinda stuff."
"Is it OK if I hug you?"
Hank's eyes went wide. He scanned the office quickly, left, right, left, before settling his gaze on Connor. A sigh escaped his lips. "Make it quick, alright?"
In 0.731 seconds, Connor quickly approached Hank and enclosed his arms around his waist. The hug lasted 7.228 seconds. During the hug, Connor could feel Hank's muscles relax and detected Hank's stress level decreasing. Three soft pats could be felt on his back and when he released Hank, the old man's eyes glistened with liquid.
"A-are you crying?"
"N-no," Hank said quickly, wiping away the evidence before it could be analyzed, "your fucking hair tickled me."
One quick scan of Hank told Connor that was a lie but he decided not to question Hank about it. A weight seemed to have been lifted in his chest. "I think I feel better now."
"Hugs'll do that. Just, er..." Hank made some wild hand gestures, "…don't ask me in the office from now on, 'kay?"
"I'll remember that." Connor smiled.
His eyes regarded Hank, as if seeing him for the first time ever. Hank was much wiser than Connor initially assumed. In fact, Hank held many remarkable traits that one couldn't tell on first glance. He was kind to those he admired, he was soft to those that got his sympathy, but most importantly to Connor, he was admirable. In the swirling darkness of his thoughts, Hank gave him a flashlight to help him find his way.
An electric current fizzled pleasantly somewhere within the android's body and a smile grew on his face. He put the feeling down under 'admiration', in his new file on emotions.
"Now about the video," Hank started, "I figured if I sent something embarrassing about you without your permission, it's only fair that I get it back." Hank motioned Connor to follow him to his desk.
Connor stiffened. "T-that won't be necessary."
"Nonsense, I fucked this up, the least you can do is even the odds."
"That's not what I meant, Hank." Connor said quickly. "I, er…did already."
Hank's eyebrows furrowed as he sat down on his desk. His eyes remained fixed on Connor. "What the fuck do you mean you already did?"
"When I was outside I tried many calming techniques to improve my mood but none of them worked. So I resorted to less savoury techniques. Techniques like…hacking your computer remotely and sending everyone an embarrassing video of you." Connor smiled sheepishly.
"Fucking hell, Connor." Hank chuckled as he turned on his computer and navigated to his e-mail. "Now I'm curious what dirt you pulled on me."
"You remember a show from your childhood known as 'Spongebob Squarepants'?"
Hank paled. "You found the video of me recreating that meme?"
"Yeah."
"…Fuck." Hank grabbed his cold coffee mug and downed the lot. His hand hovered over the mouse and before Connor could stop him, the video in question started playing.
It was a short video of Young Hank holding up a Mr Krabs figurine. His grin is infectious. "Oh yeah, Mr Krabs!" He exclaimed in his (surprisingly accurate) Mr Krabs impersonation before letting out a long, unearthly screech. The poor recording equipment rattled with noise before the video abruptly stopped.
Connor turned to Hank, who looked at the video with mild amusement and absolute horror. "Connor?"
"Yes?"
"Why the fuck did you send that video of all things to everybody?"
"I don't know," he turned to the lieutenant with a mischievous grin, "I guess I was feeling a little crabby."
The pair chuckled warmly, Hank grabbing his things as they finally left the station.
By tomorrow morning, Hank and Connor were christened with the new nicknames of "Mr. Krabs" and "Crab boy" respectively. Connor didn't feel quite so upset over the nickname as he thought. Just as long as he remembered Hank's words and reminded himself that Daniel was not him, Connor was more than happy. He was his own person making his own mark on the world. There was no need to compare himself to the dead, not when he had Hank to guide him along the way.
Notes: Inspiration for the videos in the fic:
Bryan Dechart's crabby PSA: youtube(dotcom)/watch?v=az-hC1m21Go
The Detroit Become Human version of the above video: annierosemb(dottumblr)(dotcom)/post/175432356610/psa-reupload-i-didnt-expect-it-to-get-so#notes
Oh yeah Mr Krabs (loud volume warning on this one): youtube(dotcom)/watch?v=0gi-RYNhP8Y