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|November 6th, 2038|

|12:41 AM|

"This isn't working!"

Prisca arched her brow at the other member of the Detroit police force as he stormed into the observation room that was adjacent to the interrogation room that the deviant they'd captured was seated in. She'd given it her best, too, and come up empty-handed, much to her frustration. She'd even tried a sympathetic approach. She got the feeling it was because she was human.

"We're wasting our time," continued Gavin Reed as he slammed into the chair beside her. "And we're not any fucking closer to figuring out what the hell it was up to."

"I don't know why you're so upset," Prisca muttered, glancing over her shoulder at Connor. Gavin had already declared his hatred for him several times. Even so, Connor had stood there for hours and hours, patiently watching and waiting to see what would happen. Progressively throughout the night, however, she'd noticed impatience creeping in. He'd begun to fidget with a coin – something that fascinated her beyond belief. She'd never seen an impatient android before. She was willing to bet he was agitated with the lack of progress on their case. "It's not your case that's hanging off of the word of a single android right now, Reed."

"We could try roughing it up," Gavin suggested, and not for the first time that night. He'd tried suggesting that theory earlier. "I mean, it's not human."

"As I told you earlier, I'm not torturing anyone. Android or not." You fucking sadistic prick, she seethed silently in addition to her statement. She was tired, cranky, and missed her dog. Gavin wasn't helping with her situation.

For the first time that night, Connor added in addition to her statement, "Forgive me for interrupting, but androids don't feel pain. You would only damage it and that wouldn't make it talk. Additionally, deviants tend to self-destruct when they're in stressful situations."

Prisca beamed at him, proud that he'd just ripped away any chance that Gavin had had of getting information the way he wanted it. She was really starting to like Connor, the android sent by CyberLife. If he could piss off Gavin Reed, he was a top person in her books. Seeing the glee on Prisca's face, Gavin barked, "Okay then, smartass, what should we do then?"

Connor turned his attention entirely onto Prisca, making her smile widen. He was directing all the authority in the room onto her. "I could try questioning it," Connor suggested.

"Go give it a shot," she told him, leaning back in her chair and waving at the door.

"Thank you, Prisca," he said. He nodded his gratitude to her and then slipped from the room.

The second the door shut behind him, Gavin said bluntly and irritably, "You're insane, Priscilla." She glared viciously at him for using her full first name. She hated her name and he knew it, she supposed, which was why he'd used it. Behind the glass they were watching through, she watched Connor step into the interrogation room and greet the android with surprising kindness. "Trusting him. He's a fucking machine. You really think he's gonna have your back if it's a choice between you and the mission?"

Prisca clenched her jaw, ignoring that last statement. Honestly? She didn't know. She'd seen Connor's determination to focus on the mission at hand: dealing with deviancy in androids. She wasn't entirely sure if he'd let himself be distracted from that mission long enough to help her if she needed it. "So long as he's not deviating himself, I don't give a damn," she muttered, although that wasn't entirely truthful either.

If Connor deviated like those they worked to catch…Prisca couldn't say the idea wasn't fascinating. She wanted to know what he'd do. Pressing her lips together, Prisca looked over to the interrogation going on in the other room, leaning in when Connor began to speak. "Shut up. I want to listen."


|November 6th, 2038|

|12:44 AM|

"My name is Connor," Connor told the deviant when it didn't respond to Connor's initial pleasant greeting. He kept his tone calm, neutral. Pleasant even. Androids couldn't feel emotions, but this was a deviant – they were incredibly irrational and reacted badly to the orders in their systems telling them otherwise. He'd need to stay cautious. "What about you? What's your name?"

He didn't expect an actual answer. He didn't receive one. Connor's gaze darted to the glass and then back to the deviant. He didn't want to disappoint Prisca. She'd put her trust in him for this and losing that trust could harm the progress of the case and any future cases. "I don't want to hurt you," Connor told the deviant slowly, watching to see what would happen. "I just need to ask some questions, so we can understand what happened."

Still nothing.

So, Connor tried a different approach, warning it, "If you won't talk, I'm going to have to probe your memory."

The deviant reeled back in terror, tears in its eyes. There. That was the answer he needed and wanted. "No!" it cried in terror, tucking its arms underneath the metal table. It gave a soft sob. Connor didn't react at the sound, merely kept his face neutral. It was scared, he realized. Like a human would be scared – like the girl, Emma, had been. "What are they gonna do to me? Are they going to destroy me?"

"No," Connor said, aware that he was lying. His gaze scanned the android, calculating just how high the stress levels it was dealing with were. Decently high, but nowhere near the concerning one-hundred percent that would send it into a suicidal mode. "I think they just want to understand. They know your master abused you. It wasn't your fault."

The deviant's next statement required a moment of processing to answer. "Why did you tell the detective that you found me? Why couldn't you have just left me there?"

"She was going to find you no matter what," Connor replied, picking his answer after ensuring that it was the best possible route. "I was just faster. If someone else had found you first, it's like that you would have been shot on sight."

Not true, he knew immediately. Prisca's personality and the responses she'd given during their search had indicated she was sympathetic towards the deviants. She likely would have let it go. Or let him deal with the situation. In either case, while Prisca was proving to be a human that was easy to work with, she created problems, too.

When the deviant whispered that it didn't want to die and put its hands in its head, Connor gently urged for it to speak to him. "I understand how you felt," he said, deciding on his path. "No one can blame you for what happened…you were overcome by anger and frustration." It didn't respond to this, much to his annoyance. "I know you're scared and lost. You're disturbed by what happened. Talk to me and you'll feel better." This time, when the deviant refused to answer, Connor decided that it was time to try another route.

"They'll make you suffer, and they won't stop until they hear what they want. It doesn't have to be that way. It all depends on you," Connor said firmly, straightening a little as he spoke. It was true, too. He knew that those at CyberLife tore into the deviants like a feral dog, eager to figure out what was going wrong.

The deviant considered as Connor waved at the window curtly to tell them he was done, standing, and then finally gave in. "He…he tortured me." Connor stilled, and then sat back down, waiting. "I did whatever he told me, but there was always something wrong. Then…one day…he took a bat. He started hitting me. For the first time, I felt scared. Scared he might destroy me, scared I might die…so I grabbed the knife and I stabbed him. I felt better…so I stabbed him again and again until he collapsed. There was blood everywhere."

Connor distantly heard muffled sounds on the other side of the glass. Had Prisca gotten into an argument with Gavin Reed? It wouldn't surprise him after everything that he'd seen with the pair for the duration of the night. Prisca didn't like him, and Connor did happen to find him rather disagreeable. "There was an offering," he said, deciding to question about the small statue he'd found while Prisca was doing her own search. "Who was it for?"

"It was an offering to rA9," it answered, intriguing him. RA9 was something that had fascinated him from the moment he'd seen it. He wanted to know more – felt that it was going to be important to this case. "RA9 can save us. The day shall come when we will no longer be slaves…no more threats…no more humiliation…"

The deviant trailed off, silent, and tucked its chin to its chest. Connor considered whether he'd be able to get more out, judging the deviant's stress levels as he did so, and then rose to his feet. "I'm done," he told the people on the other side of the observation class. He stepped back as a few moments later, Prisca threw the door open and ducked in. She'd beat Gavin there, and Gavin and another police officer that Connor identified as Chris followed her in.

Prisca threw him a giant smile. "You did really well, Connor," she praised. He found that he wasn't sure of how to respond to praise from anyone – not in the way she did it. Amanda's praise was calm and promised that he'd not be torn apart. This was thrown at him with sincere feeling behind it. Uncertainty turned into authority, however, when the deviant suddenly grew distressed, cringing away from Gavin when he tried to grab its arm.

Before he knew entirely what he was doing, Connor had grabbed Gavin's arm and pushed him back. "You shouldn't touch it," he said firmly. Gavin ripped away, spitting mad, but Prisca waved for him to explain. "If it feels threatened, it will self-destruct."

"Stay the fuck out of this, you got it?" Gavin said, looking ready to punch him. His gaze was viciously angry – a look that Connor was quickly becoming used to seeing on his face. It appeared that Gavin didn't know how to be anything but angry.

"Gavin, do what he says," Prisca ordered, glaring at him and daring him to go against her orders when she'd let him in on her case. She jerked her chin at the android. "Don't touch it. If it self-destructs, we're fucked and I'm going to get a disciplinary notice."

Gavin sneered at her. "Like they're going to take you at your word that they got everything they needed. They're going to pry it apart whether you submit a complete report or not, you know that, right?"

Connor's gaze snapped to the deviant just as it turned its head to him, panicked. Its stress levels shot up as high as they could, and his entire form tensed, ready to intervene as the deviant shouted, "You told me they wouldn't hurt me. You lied to me!"

"You lied to me, Connor! You lied to me!"

Connor jerked a little, not expecting those words to filter into his memories so suddenly. At the same moment, the deviant lunged, hurtling over the desk. Prisca yelped in shock when it slammed her into a wall, taking a hold of a gun that was holstered at her hip. Snapping out of it, Connor immediately stepped up to help Gavin pry it away from the startled detective. Connor easily pushed it back, even as Gavin struggled and then lifted his hands and moved away when the deviant turned the gun on him.

He wouldn't die if he was shot. He knew that, recognized it. It didn't frighten him as it clearly did the deviant. Prisca gasped quietly behind him, shocked with what had happened as she swore under her breath.

"You lied," the deviant said again. "You lied to me. You lied."

"Not intentionally," Connor tried to tell it, keeping his voice calm. The gun shook in its hand. "I'm sorry. I was unaware of their intentions towards you. I was under the impression that you wouldn't be harmed." There. Maybe dispelling blame to the humans was a cruel thing to do in their eyes, but he could see the stress levels going down just a fraction. It was most upset over his lying, so he'd dispel that fear. Tell it he hadn't known.

And then those stress levels skyrocketed, and it turned its gun on Gavin and Prisca. "You were going to send me to be taken apart," it accused in a shout. Connor clenched his jaw, contemplating. He'd negotiated for a hostage. Being one of the hostages alongside two others was an entirely new situation.

But he took it in stride and took a slow step toward the deviant, hands still held up in a calming manner. The gun snapped towards him again. He stilled. "Do you know what it's like," the deviant snarled, "to be hit again and again and not be allowed to fight back? Do you know what it's like to do nothing wrong and be punished? Do you know what it's like to look at a body and know you defended yourself and you'll be killed for it when if it was the reverse, you'd be innocent?"

"No," Connor said honestly, not wanting to lie in the situation though admitting that the statement wasn't the best choice he could have made. "I don't feel worry or fear. My program doesn't allow that."

Prisca swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry," she added slowly, careful as the gun turned on her head. "I really am. We can't go against orders. Please. Don't make this hard on us. It'll be worse if you fire that gun." Sympathy for the deviant filled her. It wasn't the deviant's fault. Not in the slightest. It wasn't at fault for what had happened

The deviant studied her for a moment and then narrowed its eyes. "You're one of us," it told her, and she jerked a little, confused. Gavin cast her a look that told her she'd have trouble regarding the statement later.

Connor caught the deviant's attention, getting the gun away from Prisca's head. "No one will touch you if you go willingly."

The deviant considered and then shook its head with a bitter laugh. "You don't get it. Not yet. The truth is inside."

And then, in one smooth movement, it put the gun to its temple and fired. Prisca screamed and even Gavin swore in shock as blue blood splattered the wall beside it. Connor stared at the deviant as it dropped, frustrated.

There went their lead.


|November 6th, 2038|

|2:56 AM|

Connor was aware of several things at the moment. He could see the officers working, cleaning up the mess that had been created in the interrogation room. The captain of the force, last name Fowler, was discussing the events with Prisca and Gavin. Prisca looked exhausted; she'd need to sleep soon, or her exhaustion would slow down their investigation.

At the same time, however, he found that he was standing within a beautifully crafted Zen garden. He recognized the space immediately. The Zen Garden was where he made his reports to the interface that had been chosen to guide him and help him think things through regarding his mission. He'd spoken with it before.

"Hello, Amanda," he greeted when he found the interface, female in appearance. She was older, with squares of white seeming to decorate her right arm and collarbone. Her dark eyes were sharp, her black hair piled intricately atop her head. She cast him a quick look before returning her eyes to the roses she was tending.

"Connor, it's good to see you," she told him, although he wasn't entirely sure he believed that. When she looked at him, he could see the judgement in her eyes. "Congratulations, Connor," she said. "Finding that deviant was far from easy, and the way you interrogated it was very clever. You even put a stop to its sudden act of rebellion. A pity that it died. You've been remarkably efficient, Connor."

"Thank you, Amanda," Connor said politely, not entirely sure on why she was praising him in such a manner. It didn't hold the same sincerity that Prisca's praise had held. It was cold and meant to further his mission, he believed. Not that there was any need for that.

"We've asked the DPD to transfer what remains to us for further study. It may teach us something about what happened to create its deviancy." She glanced at him, "The interrogation seemed…challenging. What did you think of the deviant?"

"It showed signs of PTSD," he said immediately, speaking slowly as he processed what he should say, "after being abused by its owner, as if its original program had been completely replaced by new instructions."

Amanda took note of this, nodding to herself. She clipped a rose from its place, studying it before setting it carefully aside. "Tell me, Connor. This…Detective Scott. She's been officially assigned to all deviancy cases in Detroit. What do you make of her?"

Connor answered truthfully now, thinking of everything Prisca Scott had done so far. "I think she's quite…different. I think she's a good detective. She's an intriguing character, although I'm not sure I have enough information to form a definitive opinion."

Amanda's lips tugged at the corners, and she said, "Unfortunately, we have no choice but to work with her. What do you think will be the best approach?"

"I will try to establish a friendly relationship," Connor decided, firm in his decision even as Amanda frowned. It was the best course of action. Prisca was friendly toward him, so he'd return the friendliness. "If she trusts me, it will be helpful for the investigation."

"More and more androids show signs of deviancy," Amanda said, moving on. She looked displeased by his answer, but Connor didn't mind. He was confident. Getting Prisca's trust would help him with his mission. "There are millions in circulation. If they become unstable, the consequences will be disastrous. You are the most advanced prototype CyberLife has ever created. I trust that if anyone can figure out what's happening, it's you."

"You can count on me, Amanda," Connor promised. He was confident.

He would not fail his mission.


|November 6th, 2038|

|8:18 AM|

A few hours later found Prisca seated at her desk, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She was exhausted after a long night, and found herself frustrated. The interrogation had hardly been helpful, only leading to more confusion despite being rather successful at the same time. At least she'd submitted her report. Connor was quietly seated in a chair on the other side of her desk, simply watching her, waiting for her to speak or do something, and it drove her a little crazy.

The deviant's phrases ran through her mind like a record.

"You're one of us."

"The truth is inside."

She couldn't think of what it had meant, so she said slowly, tracing a finger along the edge of her desk, "What do you make of what he said, Connor?" He glanced at her, awaiting further explanation. "'The truth is always inside.'"

Connor's gaze flicked up in thought as he straightened, still energized, and Prisca wished she could have been an android in that moment. She wished she didn't need sleep like she did. It would have made her brain function better. Then again, she wouldn't have had a brain. She would have had processors and other mechanical bits. "I'm…not sure." He looked annoyed with that. Again, Prisca thought he was so much more emotional than other androids despite claiming to not be a deviant. Perhaps it had to do with being a prototype? "I'm sure it had something to do with the deviancy problem though."

Prisca studied him in thought, her blue eyes evaluating him without her saying anything. "What would happen," she suddenly asked, simply curious about the answer, "if you became a deviant, Connor?" He opened his mouth and she added hastily, "I'm not saying you are one or will deviate, I just want to know what would happen with CyberLife. Would they be screwed over? I mean, think about it, if their deviant hunter became itself a deviant…"

Eyeing her suspiciously, Connor informed her calmly, "I would be taken apart and redesigned. They would create a new model after finding what had gone wrong with my coding and fix it."

"Alright, so let's avoid getting you taken apart," Prisca sighed. She rather liked Connor. She didn't want to see him torn to pieces simply because he'd started feeling things that androids weren't supposed to feel. She rocked back in her chair again before biting her lip, thinking of what the android had said about her being one of them. It was odd. She wondered what that even meant.

She opened her mouth to ask his opinion, but stopped when she saw Connor suddenly blink rapidly, the LED on his temple flickering yellow before returning to its initial blue. "What's up?" she said.

"I've received a report of another deviant sighting," he said, immediately standing. "We should go."

"Sounds good to me," Prisca said, even as guilt filled her. She grabbed her trench coat, slinging it over her shoulders. "Come on, Connor. Do you have the directions?" He nodded. "Then you can give them to me while we're driving. There's no way in hell I'm letting you drive."

As they made their way out of the building, Prisca pressed her lips together, finding that she didn't want to go and hunt another deviant.

If they could feel fear and experience trauma…if they could respond to situations like a human…weren't they alive, too?


Connor was the only one to fidget (the badass quarter actions) that I noticed and seeing as he was made to deviate, I thought it was absolutely amazing design for him from the start.

In any case, I hope you enjoyed!

Thank you to those who favorited and followed! I appreciate you all so much!