"Pull the trigger…"
Arriving at Elijah Kamski's residence, Connor had had a very clear goal in mind. One task: find out what the man knew - if anything - about the Deviants and Jericho. He had been the CEO and founder of CyberLife, after all. The creator of the very first intelligent androids. He had to know something, however small or otherwise seemingly insignificant. His mission had been crystal clear. Straightforward. Simple.
Until it wasn't.
The gun was cool, having barely picked up any heat from the short distance Kamski had carried it before placing it in his hand. Within half a second, Connor knew precisely everything about it. It was a standard model, readily available for purchase by civilians; loaded with a full clip, and registered in the man's name. Of course, it wouldn't have mattered either way. Even if he hadn't legally owned the gun, nothing would come from him shooting one of his own androids with it, in his own private residence.
Except he wasn't the one aiming it at the Chloe's head.
Connor was.
"What's more important, Connor? Your mission, or the life of this android?"
The mission, of course. It wasn't- no… shouldn't have been a question at all. Yet, staring down at Chloe - one of several in the room, he reminded himself - it became one. He remembered making the comment to Hank that she was pretty, and even holding a gun to her head, even with her steadfast vacant expression, that observation remained unshaken in his central processors.
Is she afraid?
Connor adjusted his grip on the handgun ever so slightly, finger hovering over the trigger. He glanced at Hank - posture tense; anxious, concerned - a few feet to his right, and wondered briefly what the man would think of him if he fired. There was a 78% probability that he would be upset to the point of vitriol; an even higher chance of pure and plain disappointment.
"I would certainly find it regrettable to be… interrupted… before I can finish this investigation."
Something flashed through his memory, bright and hot and loud. The echo of a gunshot, a phantom of pain he wasn't supposed to be able to feel, a terror that wasn't his but left him breathless all the same. He locked eyes with Chloe once again. If she was at all frightened, she was certainly good at hiding it.
"Connor! Connor, are you alright?!"
Good, but not perfect. There was something more in her gaze. If he had been human, he would have chalked it up to his imagination, but since he wasn't, it was undeniable. He took an uneven, unnecessary breath. He knew she was afraid.
Because I was.
SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^^
"Choose, Connor," Kamski's voice came from his left; a slithering, hushed tone that made him clench his teeth. A red wall materialized before him, suffocatingly solid, displaying the order like a neon sign.
Choose.
No, was the immediate, unbidden response from somewhere in his thoughts. The refusal was weak, barely a whisper, but it was there. His Thirium regulator took on an unsteady, pounding rhythm, and an error appeared.
STRESS LEVEL: 61%
Connor dismissed it with a blink. His programming fought, screaming for him to accomplish his mission, no matter what. Like he was supposed to. Like he was designed to. He pressed his lips together in a firm line and tightened his hold. The biosensors in his fingers registered a tremble at the strain.
Choose.
No. The resistance was stronger this time, louder. He almost thought he'd said it aloud. The corner of his lip turned up in a sneer.
Choose.
Why should I?
Connor gave a low, almost inaudible gasp, blinking as though emerging from a daze. The wall was still there, the orders ever-present, but it was far easier to ignore. Far easier to calm the wild race of his Thirium regulator, to work with the tight pressure in his chest. Far easier to turn…
And level the gun with Kamski's head.
The stunned silence lasted all of five seconds.
"Connor!" Hank snapped, but his system told him there was more concern in his tone than anger. Anger born from fear of what Connor might do. "No!"
The spinning light of his LED caught on the frost-glossed window in his peripheral - red, red, red.
Kamski smiled.
Steady quiet returned, broken only by the gentle lapping of water in the pool behind him. In contrast to before, Connor's hand was perfectly steady, aim unwavering as a tense minute passed. It took that long before Hank spoke again. "Connor," he said; softer this time, placating. Trying to get Connor to calm down. He took a step forward, raising his hands slightly. "Easy, son. Put the gun down."
Kamski's smile broadened, voice betraying no trepidation whatsoever. "Then what are you waiting for?"
Connor inhaled sharply, which felt too angry, too human. It felt.
His jaw shifted as he glowered at the shorter human. His system tried vainly to tell him that this was wrong - that he was a machine, that he wasn't supposed to feel anything. Most pressingly, that he couldn't hurt a human. This was dismissed, joining his supposed incapability to handle a firearm on the list of human laws he didn't care about. The handgun clicked as he removed the safety. Kamski's eyes widened the smallest fraction.
"For fuck's sake, Connor, listen t' me!" Hank all but shouted. Connor looked at him out the corner of his eye, which was enough to prompt the Lieutenant to continue. "You kill him, that's murder." The word registered almost as a physical impact - a punch, low in the gut, like when Detective Reed had hit him not five days earlier. "Remember what happened to Ortiz's android, huh?" Connor's brow creased in confusion. Of course he remembered. It had been dismantled, analyzed for the source of its deviancy. But I'm not a Deviant...
SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^^
"Same thing'll happen to you, you understand?" He did. Here he was, threatening a human, holding a gun to his head. And not just any human at that. Connor's hand began to shake again. "Is that really what you want?"
Connor closed his eyes, posture sagging. Why was everyone so insistent on knowing what he wanted? A series of warnings flashed across his vision as, all at once, he dropped his arm and, subsequently, the gun back to his side, letting out an unsteady breath. The tightness ebbed, leaving him feeling drained. After a few seconds and without lifting his head, he flipped the gun in hand and held it out for Kamski to take. The man did, with something that sounded like a chuckle.
Another surge came and went. "I won't play your twisted little game," Connor said. If there was any defiance in his tone, it went unchecked.
"Fascinating," Kamski muttered. He circled Connor, footsteps muffled by the soft carpet where Chloe had remained on her knees, the infuriating smile never leaving his face. "CyberLife's last chance to save humanity… showing not only empathy, but anger at the proposed destruction of another android." He extended a hand to help Chloe to her feet which she took, rising without a word. Her gaze didn't shift from Connor until Kamski put a hand on her back, silently dismissing her. She wandered out of the room. "That's deviant behavior, Connor."
Connor's head snapped up at that, feeling something in his chest tighten again. Surely it was just a change in Thirium pressure, but why...?
"I-" he began, but the words died in his throat. His eyes flicked from Kamski to Hank to the floor and back again, lips moving but making no sound for a moment as he floundered for the denial that should have come easily. "I-I'm…" His voice broke. "I'm not a Deviant!"
Kamski's smile shifted into an unmistakably triumphant smirk. "Of course not," he said, like he was speaking to a child. Then, unexpectedly, his expression changed. Knowing? Expectant? Connor couldn't be sure. "A war is coming. You'll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people, or stand up against your creators?" His smile returned, utterly - perhaps mockingly - sympathetic. "What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?"
Hank chose that moment to thrust an arm between the pair. He took hold of Connor's shoulder and turned him aside. "Come on," he said firmly, fixing Kamski with a withering glare. "We're done here." He made sure Connor was in front of him before heading for the door.
"By the way!" Kamski called. Connor paused in the doorway, not bothering to cast so much as a glance over his shoulder. The man continued regardless. "I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know." Connor's LED held at solid red for a full two seconds. Hank had stopped at the front door, waiting for him. Connor moved to join his partner. "Do be careful, Connor!"
Mercifully, Hank waited until they had stepped out into the brisk November air before coming to a halt on the concrete ramp. The snow had begun to fall, and .15 inches of the cold fluff accumulated on his shoulders before he moved again. Connor had only paused once he realized he'd overtaken the man and turned to see him shaking his head, running a hand through his hair.
"What the fuck, Connor?" he asked, tone gruff but distinctly worried. "Do you have any idea the kind'a shit you just pulled?"
Something he couldn't put a name on flooded his system, hot and uncomfortable. He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily. "I know!" he said loudly. No, no, that was frustration. He wasn't supposed to feel frustrated. He wasn't supposed to feel. Lifting his head, Connor looked Hank in the eye. The Lieutenant still didn't look nearly as upset as Connor thought he ought to have.
"I know, okay? I'm sorry, I just-" Averting his gaze, Connor once again struggled for an explanation. "I saw that girl's eyes, and I couldn't-" He faltered, agitated hands curling in the empty air around his head. "I couldn't think, Hank. She had done nothing wrong, it didn't make sense, she didn't-" His palms slapped lightly against his thighs as the strength left his arms, shoulders dropping in resignation. His voice quieted.
"She didn't need to die."
Hank nodded along as Connor spoke, in what appeared to be understanding. "And the fact that that prick suggested it…" he replied, purposefully trailing off.
Connor swallowed hard, turning to face the snow-drowned gardens. "I wanted him to know how it felt. I-... I was-..." The word that came to mind frightened him - but I'm not supposed to be able to be afraid - and he bit down on his lip. "Angry." His shoulders shook as he took a breath to cool his systems. In the same heartbeat, a realization struck him, one that left him feeling as cold as the wind that bit at his cheeks. "I wanted to pull the trigger…" The confession sent him reeling, off-balance, and he clutched the ramp's icy railing for support.
STRESS LEVEL: 82%
CRITICAL SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED
"Yeah, well," said Hank with a sniff, his partner's turmoil seemingly lost on him. "Pretty sure a decent part'a me wanted you to too, kid. Guy's a Grade-A asshole, sure as-..."
His comment went unfinished as Connor's knees buckled, biocomponents giving out to some unseen stress. The man lurched forward, but Connor's name caught in his throat once he saw the android's face. Was he... crying?
As Hank watched, a fine tremble passed through Connor's frame. He shook his head, a noise like a sob escaping. The LED on his temple swirled, sputtering between red and gold. "I don't- I don't understand," he whispered. Ignoring the temperature warning that appeared in his blurred vision, Connor peered up at Hank, looking heartbreakingly lost. "What's happening to me?"
Hank sighed. He did not get paid enough for this.
"Ah, shit," he muttered under his breath, leaning over to take hold of Connor's jacket. "Come 'ere." Practically hauling the younger-looking man to his feet, Hank wasted no time raising a hand to the back of his neck and drawing him into a tight hug. His other arm went around his waist, holding him upright as he continued to shake.
Connor stiffened briefly. His short life had been fairly bereft of positive physical contact; not that it had been on CyberLife's list of priorities for his model to begin with. Slowly though, the tension eased from his body and he buried his face in Hank's shoulder, hands twisting in the coarse fabric of the Lieutenant's jacket.
He didn't sob again. In fact, he was completely silent. The slight hiccup in his next breath, however, had Hank tightening his hold, lowering his head until his cheek rested on Connor's hair. He couldn't help a small chuckle as the kid - which, fuck all else, in human terms, he most certainly was - pressed closer in return.
"Remember what I said about emotions always screwing everything up?" he asked softly. Connor gave a single nod. "This is… pretty much what I meant." Hank heaved another sigh and rubbed his palm against his partner's back.
"It's okay. You're gonna be okay, son. We'll figure it out."
Connor's LED finally circled back to blue.