*... stops on a dime, goes for the three-pointer … short on the three and Ricket on the rebound … alley -oop to Long, but he can't finish … Huron knocks it down!*

The radio howled with the swell of a triumphant crowd; a scatter of claps and whistles roused the half-drunk patrons in hope of a thrilling Gears victory.

Jimmy leaned back against the bar - under the dim lights, the rows of colored glass bottles, the clatter of drinks on the tables, an occasional wheeze of laughter - his arms folded and a wide bright grin on his face … until the front door pushed open.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Jimmy stood tall and pointed with a rigid finger out the door. "What did I say about you comin' in here?!"

"I don't plan on staying," was Connor's sharp response. Despite the glares and glowers that pierced him from all directions, Connor strode inside with uninterrupted purpose straight for Hank's hunched figure draped over the bar.

"We've had enough of androids!" one of the other patrons shouted.
"This is the one last haven!"
"... invading every goddamn inch of the city!"
"Jimmy, c'mon man!"
"... just here to listen to the game!"

"Hey." Jimmy stepped resolutely out from behind the bar, his shoulders squared. He raised his head and looked Connor in the eye. "Get the fuck out of my bar, tin can."

Connor didn't blink. His expression remained passive. Cool as ice. "What are you gonna do?" He raised questioning brows. "Shoot me? Why don't you try?" A twitch of a sneering smirk flashed at his teeth. "Let's see what happens -"

"Connor I swear to fucking Christ!" Hank roared with a slam of his sloshing drink. His eyes raged like fire. "If you get me kicked outta this bar you'll be a glorified doorstop when I'm through with you -"

"Then answer your messages!" Connor shot back.

"You don't get to demand my attention any goddamn time you feel like it! You got a definition of boundaries in that genius head of yours -"

"Considering the last time I had to go looking for you -"

"Alright, that's it." Hank surged from his seat, grabbed Connor by the shirt and gave a violent shove -

- which barely moved the android at all.

Connor peered at him with that infuriating squint.

Hank hissed a sharp breath through his teeth, his eyes wide and wild and drunk, and he clenched a fist and threw it with desperate force into Connor's face.

His knuckles hit plastic, and Hank knew it was only because Connor had allowed it.

"What happened?" Connor demanded, unphased save for the shift of damaged skin. "You were fine this morning."

"I'M NOT FINE."

In the reverberation of Hank's voice - while everyone in the room held their breath - the radio murmured a continuing play-by-play of the basketball game. A horn blared. A crowd roared.

Hank hissed a low obscenity and slammed out the door and into the night.


"Talk to me, Hank."

Connor trotted after him across pools of yellow streetlights while Hank stomped stiffly toward the car.

"Leave me the fuck alone," Hank spat without looking at him. "You're excised from CyberLife so you're attached to me now? I let you stay one night -"

Connor glared at the back of his head. "What happened."

"You go off saving androids like some kinda vigilante and suddenly you're acting like you're a fucking hero, like the goddamn world owes you. I don't owe you shit."

"Hank."

"I bet my badge the rally would go off without a hitch." Hank sneered. He fumbled with his keys, threw open the driver's side door, slammed it shut behind him and locked himself inside the car.

Connor tried the passenger door. The handle clicked. The door didn't open.

The engine rumbled to life.

Connor pounded the top of the car with a closed fist. "I bet my life that destroying Amanda's army was the right thing to do. If what we're doing doesn't matter anymore, you have to tell me before 900 comes for me, because I won't survive a second time."

"Don't put this on me," Hank murmured inside.

The car idled noisily.

Hank wrung his hands on the wheel … then reached across and popped the lock on the passenger door.

"Let me drive," Connor spoke through the closed door instead. "I'll take you home."


The dark streets were empty.

The traffic lights shone unyielding green.

The shadows in the car shifted with passing light.

"I didn't know the riot guards weren't human."

Hank broke the silence with a low murmur. His tired eyes stared glazed through the windshield without seeing much of anything at all. "I didn't know Amanda had Fowler wrapped around her finger."

"He's been feeding her information?" Connor kept his hands steady on the wheel while he glanced to Hank in the passenger seat.

"That's the least of it." Hank leaned his aching head against the window. "I'm suspended for three weeks. The investigation claims I was complicit in the shooting."

"No one believes that!" When there came no answer, Connor shot him a quick glare. "Hank!"

"Your serial number was reported missing," Hank went on steadily. "You're a danger to the public and you're on the list for the recycler. I said I didn't know where you were. Then I dropped my badge and my gun and my phone on Fowler's desk, and I left."

Connor's heart sank. "Your phone …"

"I bricked it beforehand." Hank huffed and waved away Connor's concerns. "I'm not stupid."

The tires hummed on the pavement.

"... Thanks." Connor breathed. Slowed at the next corner. The turn indicator clicked and flashed.


Quiet stretched between them until the car had parked in Hank's driveway.

The engine went silent.

Connor curled the keys in his hand only a moment before he held them out to Hank.

Hank opened his palm to receive them. "If that 900-model is out for you … why hasn't he found you yet?"

The implication was clear. If the RK900 wanted Connor dead, they wouldn't be having this conversation. Hank closed the keys in his fist. "You know my house is the first place he'll look."

A hollow cold chasm cracked open in Connor's chest. He couldn't breathe.

He stared at his hands.

"My last assignment," he explained slowly, "was to infiltrate Jericho. I think Amanda still hopes I'll fulfill that mission. I think she knows that I know how to get there, and she's biding her time."

Hank twisted in his seat and squinted at Connor. "How long've you known where Jericho is?"

"Since the rapids." A tiny rueful smile twitched on Connor's face. "The tree at the playground. It's a lock, and deviancy is the key. I should be able to open it if I tried again."

"So are you going?"

Connor gave a slow shake of his head. "It's what Amanda wants."

"It seems we're all playing into what Amanda wants nowadays."

In the silence, neither moved.


"I have to disappear." Connor spoke gently. He looked across to the passenger seat, where Hank sat very still.

He knew Hank needed … someone.

But Connor was more a danger to him now than a comfort. They both knew it.

Hank shifted, and he pulled his personal cell phone from his pocket. "Here." He dropped it into Connor's open palm. "How 'bout you install that app of yours. Or just a phone number. Something. Don't disappear on me."

A hot pain bloomed behind Connor's eyes while the cold crushed his chest.

His LED flickered blue. Hank's phone flashed. He handed it back. "I made my own app - something not branded by CyberLife," Connor explained with a twitch of a smile. "It's secure."

Hank poked at the screen. "Did you leave in the funny shit?"

An unexpected laugh broke from Connor's throat. "I left in the funny shit. Though I'd appreciate if you didn't turn my hair blue while I'm undercover." Connor watched in silence while Hank fiddled with the settings. "Don't you disappear, either."

Hank dragged in a slow breath.

He pocketed the phone.

After a long silent moment of thought he nodded to himself. An acknowledgment of truth. A decision.

"I'll keep it on." Without looking at Connor, Hank opened the passenger door and stepped out into the cool night.

With the keys jangling in his hand, he walked across the dim path and up the step to the front door.

He looked back.

Connor was gone.