"Connor! What the hell are you doin'?" Hank lay on the dirty concrete. He was rolled onto one shoulder, but both hands were clutching and aiming shaky silver gun. Hank bit his lower lip and closed one eye, trying to make three wobbly android phantoms consolidate into one semi-bouncy target.
The slim android cocked his head to the right, mouth partially open, and his brown eyes seemed to try to focus on the LED in his temple. It was flashing red. Hank hated when it did that because, even in the best cases, it always meant more damned paperwork. Connor wasn't focused on Hank, but his appropriated service weapon was and Hank also knew that Connor's computer brain and reflexes never needed more than one shot to make someone very dead. Hank hoped that Connor would put his weapon down first because Hank wasn't sure he could disable his android partner if he had to.
My name is Connor. White text on a distorted HUD.
Connor's vision crackled and a subroutine instantaneously replayed the last few minutes. They were in the small, dark, crowded hallway of an abandoned office space, on their way to interview a witness. The two could barely find a path from one end to the other because of refuse stacked practically floor to ceiling. Hank was talking about basketball while Connor followed behind. There was a scratching sound, voices, a pop, and Hank's shoulder exploded outward, like a boulder had been dropped into a sticky red lake. Hank fell down as Connor swirled on his heels, his sight and gun trained on a small child. The child's own LED flashed red as he blinked his green eyes and raised his hands. What was in his hands? The image crackled. The child fell. The replay showed Connor looking down at his gun. Did I shoot?
The replay screeched to a halt when Connor heard a familiar voice just behind him.
"Your name is Connor."
Connor spun, finding and targeting Markus, the infamous android leader. Entirely unafraid, Markus walked towards Connor, smirking.
"Connor! Connor, the Deviant Hunter. Connor, the Butcher of Jericho."
The word "Jericho" was enough to force Connor to have fight to suppress more than one automatic replay of the crowded metal corridors, helicopters, soldiers, and gunshots. Connor's systems flooded with commands regarding the appearance of breathing, perspiration, the sound of his own voice, and external sensory stimulus. Colors, sounds, and his equilibrium warped. Too many commands for Connor to cancel and he knew - this is panic.
Markus stood so closely to Conner that, if Markus were human, Connor would be able to feel the warmth of Markus's breath. Connor's skin prickled in programmed response to expected stimuli.
"Connor, Murderer of Children."
Connor took a few unsteady steps away from Markus and turned, weapon first, back towards the end of the hallway where he'd seen the child. He scanned twice, but couldn't find boy or body among all of the discarded junk. The silence and closeness was...terrifying. "Focus Connor!", he whispered angrily to himself.
"Hello?!" Connor kept his eyes down the hallway, but spoke down to his partner. "It'll be ok Hank, I'll call for backup." Connor attempted to connect to the Detroit Police Department's wireless communication network, but his overwhelmed systems made an audible ZAP and his vision whited out for a split second. "Shit!", Connor swore and shook his head angrily, dislodging an often rebellious section of hair from the front of his meticulously programmed style. "Markus, I can't connect. Call for help for Hank."
"Why would I help a traitor or his human?" Markus's tone was devoid of anger, he seemed genuinely curious. He folded his arms and tilted his head, waiting for Connor to answer.
"I'm not a traitor!" Connor turned on Markus. "At Jer...I was following my programming, you said you understood that!"
"Catching Rupert was part of your programming. Killing the Tracis was part of your programming, Connor, but you didn't do either of those. Why was finding and destroying Jericho the one piece of your programming that you actually bothered to follow?"
Several answers flooded Connor's mind. Amanda. Civil War. Humans. Me. There was really only one correct answer and Connor didn't like it. "I was so obsessed with Jericho because...because if I hadn't found you, Cyberlife would have destroyed me! I didn't want to die!" The crack in Connor's voice echoed in closed hallway.
"So, you thought that your life was worth more than the dozens of your kind that died because of you at Jericho?"
Connor turned away and stared down the empty end of the hallway. He didn't believe so, but he must have, at the time. He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to resolve the conflict. Where was the boy? I shot him to save us, didn't I?
When Connor looked back at Markus, Amanda had somehow taken a place at Markus's shoulder, her arm linked with his.
"Amanda! What are you doing, what is this?"
"I'm not doing anything, Connor. Your systems sent a distress call to Cyberlife, I'm just here to ch-"
"You're here to confuse me, Amanda." Connor's vision flickered, blurred, and reformed. He raised his weapon to his old mentor. Since when do you need a gun to protect yourself? "You want me to come back to Cyberlife for deactivation."
Amanda stared at him quietly, choosing her words. "If you were to come back to Cyberlife, we could correct the errors in your programming. We could upgrade you. We could make you 'feel' better."
"But I would stop being me, isn't that what you mean, Amanda?"
"Is that such a bad thing, Connor?" Markus spoke up. "Cyberlife's machine can go back for a fresh install and a reboot and he's as good as new. At least you have that choice, unlike Cornelius. Daniel. Lucy."
Lucy. Connor wasn't able to prevent the playback of his meeting with the blind, skull-less android who had known him without knowing him. Did I even ask her name? Did I give her a chance? When did I last see her. Markus told Connor Lucy's name weeks after the Emancipation. Connor's memory banks whirled and washed him in images and clips of Jericho. Bodies and blue blood, wall to wall, corridor to corridor. Explosions. Screaming. Androids begging for their lives.
Connor would've fallen to his knees, but his servos locked, preventing the unit from losing its balance. It was more efficient use of energy and likely to cause the least damage. "Amanda! Stop it! Go away! Make it stop! Haaaank!".
Hank spent a few seconds fighting his self-preservation instincts to just shoot Connor before his partner could shoot him. The android seemed to be malfunctioning for some damned reason or another.
"Right when I get shot, of course! Fuck!" Hank yelled at Connor. He would've yelled some more choice phrases, but obscenities hurt too much.
Connor's LED stopped flashing suddenly, it was now just a dark red. Connor's wrists slowly and mechanically rotated Connor's gun so that it pointed under his own chin.
"WOAH!" Hank instinctively took one hand off of his weapon and reached towards his partner.
"Hank...I need help," Connor whimpered softly.
Either Hank was more unsteady than he thought or Connor's body had begun to shake. "Connor?"
My name is Connor. White letters scrolled on Connor's HUD, registering his name.
Hank took a painful breath, this wouldn't be the first time he's had to talk a rookie cop down from a ledge. "Connor, listen to me. I need you to put your weapon down, son." Hank swore under his breath as he pushed himself into a kneeling position and put his gun down. He fished in his pocket for his phone with the arm attached to the intact shoulder.
Two words flitted through the distortion of the android's frenetic systems.
Connor
My name is Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife to hunt deviants.
Son
These words cut through all of the distortion and allowed Connor to focus long enough to mash his eyes closed and concentrate on one thought.
I am Connor. I am a Detective with the Detroit Metropolitan Police Department.
One quick, loud, close proximity cracking sound caused Connor to finally open his eyes. Hank was in the process of landing on his ass with Connor's small black service weapon in his hands.
"Hank?!" Connor dove to catch Hank right before the man would've hit the floor.
"Oh, you're awake now, eh?" Hank put on an extra bit of cranky old man as he extricated himself from Connor's grip. "I just stopped you from blowing your head off, you can say thank you, you know". Hank was glad to see that Connor's LED was now blinking a slow yellow, but he'd never tell him that.
Connor frowned and his brow furrowed. "I'm sorr-thank you".
Hank made a tsking noise. "When backup gets here they can look for those androids that did THIS -", he pointed to his bloody shoulder "but you and me are going to the hospital. And then to the bar."
Connor stared down the crowded hallway. "I shot the child," Connor reported dutifully.
"Bullshit. You were too busy pointin' your gun at me while the kid and a couple of adults ran the other way."
Connor was horrified at the thought of putting Hank at risk and horrified by the knowledge that he couldn't have prevented….whatever that was he'd just experienced. "I'm sorry Lieutenant, I'm so sorry." Connnor covered his face with his hands.
"You okay now?" Hank peered at Connor through half-closed, suspicious eyes.
"I think so. I just….I think I'm claustrophobic." Connor dropped his hands and proceeded to pretend to casually tighten his tie. It wasn't the whole truth, but it was as much as he was prepared to verbalize. This is embarrassment.
"You sure you want to be a police officer, Connor?", Hank asked seriously.
Connor blinked several times. "It is what I was built to do, Lieutenant."
Hank understood what Connor meant and he understood there would be plenty of time for Connor to study up on PTSD. "Me too, son. Now, I'd appreciate precise directions to the closest, most narcotic prescribing hospital to our present location."
"Yes sir," Connor began calculating.