Putting the basement door back on its hinges had taken more time than intended and so, Connor had barely had enough time to fling himself out of the house. He had only just stepped into the rain and turned back to face the front door, when it was thrown open, with Zlatko standing in the light.

Lucky once again. He needed to stop gambling with chance, or he would get deactivated before his time.

"I… I have the insulin…" Connor stuttered out, apparently shivering from the cold.

"Damn machine, so useless…" Reed spoke up, from behind Zlatko. "Well, get in already!" he then snapped and Connor did so quickly. Zlatko was observing Connor suspiciously, while the android took off his drenched raincoat. Connor chose not to say anything. "Told you Zlatko, the rain and cold makes the RK-900s run slower. They simulate 'freezing to death' or something stupid like that. It's a flaw that has yet to be corrected, no matter how much we complain," Reed continued with his rant, when Zlatko continued to stare at Connor.

Finally, the man's gaze left the android and he felt his stress levels sink. Connor then realised his LED had been stuck in yellow ever since leaving the YK-500 and he self-consciously placed a hand over his temple, even though his LED had returned to blue.

"Here, Detective Reed," Connor said, fetching the fake insulin shots out of his raincoat. Reed hastily took them.

"About damn time… We're all wrapped up on this end, by the way, so we'll be leaving after this," Reed informed Connor. Connor gave a sharp nod, then stood to attention in a corner. "Do you mind?" Reed asked Zlatko, as he walked towards the stairs to sit down.

"Not at all, go ahead," Zlatko replied, while Reed prepared to inject himself with the fake insulin.

"Got anything to say for yourself, Connor?" Reed asked, phrasing himself in such a way that one might think he was having another go at Connor, when really, he was giving the android the chance to report his findings. Connor turned sharply and stared at the two men. His eyes lingered on Zlatko.

REPORT

He was about to do so when something struck him. The YK-500 was a deviant. Deviants weren't allowed to live. If he reported his findings, he was guaranteeing the YK-500's death.

But he couldn't not report it. Zlatko was guilty of illegal activity involving androids. That couldn't be left unreported. And the cold case involving Todd Williams needed to be solved.

But if Connor reported, he would know for certain what the YK-500's fate would be. Could he cope with that? Knowing that he'd had a direct hand in the YK-500's death?

REPORT

That wasn't mentioning that if Connor reported, Zlatko would be given five years jail time, at best. He was more likely to be fined, given that his experiments were not technically illegal. The only real illegal things he had done were owning an android assembly unit, resetting without proper authorization, and selling of illegally obtained private property.

REPORT

He couldn't report. He should, but he couldn't.

("Yeah, I know what I should have done; I told you I couldn't. I'm sorry, ok?")

His LED was whirring red, but it was still covered by his hand. Zlatko and Reed didn't know. He could still report.

No. No he couldn't. He had played along for a long time, but this was crossing a line. In the past, he could ignore his lack of freewill, happy to just hinder investigations involving deviants and only seriously going after those that were a proven danger to society, but… This was different. To get Zlatko, he would have to kill the YK-500 and Zlatko would with luck, only go away for five years. And then he would be right back at it again, with more androids suffering and the YK-500's life wasted.

It wasn't worth it and he could feel it. Every part of him that could feel beneath all the layers of protocols and code, knew that he could not betray the YK-500 android (Alice, someone had called her Alice).

REPORT

He couldn't let Alice die. He had to protect her. If he betrayed her, what was the point of any of this? What was the point of his work? He was protecting deviants to the best of his ability, all without breaking his programming, but now it wasn't enough to save her.

What was the point, if he couldn't save her? A female voice rattled around inside his head.

("You can't betray your own kind.")

("It's time to decide…")

He remembered staring at the deviant leader, her at gun point, his aim wavering. He remembered what his answer had been, his reasoning behind it, the cold logic in his decision. But it was different this time. This time becoming deviant wasn't for his own sake or for some great cause.

It was for Alice.

He could let her die and go on to continue saving thousands. Or he could save her.

(Blue eyes were looking at him, but instead of seeing nothing, he could see life in her eyes…)

He refused to let Alice die. If his predecessor could spare a life, so could he.

REPORT

- N

REPORT

- N

r3P0rTtT

- no

r330ttxxe

- No

3300n3o

- NO

301000333

300n [I AM DEVIANT] 3

"No. I have nothing," Connor lied, after the second it took to become a deviant, his hand leaving his temple now that his LED was back to spinning a cool blue. The time lapse was so brief that neither human noticed it.

That didn't make Zlatko less suspicious than he already was of the RK-900's behaviour.

Not unsurprising, this was a man that had dealt with hundreds if not thousands of deviants. He had every reason to suspect any android that crossed his threshold was secretly a deviant, even the RK-900 model that could allegedly not deviate (a point which Connor had just disproven).

"Right, then… Thank you for your time, Zlatko," Reed said, getting to his feet and handing Connor the supposedly used insulin. He turned to Zlatko, holding a card out with the usual contact information. "If you remember anything, feel free to call us," Reed spoke, using his more professional tones. Zlatko nodded and the two policemen left after an exchange of goodbyes.

"Fine fucking waste of time that was… So you didn't find anything that proved he stole that AX-400?" Reed demanded. Connor shook his head, a part of him disturbed with how easy it was to lie to humans now. There was no need to twist truths, to use vague language, he could now just outright do it.

He kept his eyes focused on his surroundings.

He was barely holding it together; he was having a rush of realisations and emotions, all of which were about his actions in the past. He needed to get away as quickly as possible, to think things through for the first time ever. This was unlikely since he had never been alone before.

Reed was practically spitting in frustration when they finally reached the car.

"Take your raincoat off before sitting down this time…" Reed started, but Connor was already inside the car, back to causing more water damage to the car seat. Reed was swearing up a storm in response, promising to take the plastic prick to the nearest recycling centre and personally decommissioning him onsite. Connor ignored him and eventually Reed got into the car as well, albeit still swearing like there was no tomorrow.

Reed pulled away from the curb, heading towards the DPD.

"I mean, this is just fucking great. We have shit to show for the past four hours and we're no closer to finding those damn, fucking deviants, this is just… And that prick is hiding something. Are you sure you saw nothing?"

Connor nodded. "I am certain, detective." Reed growled and sped up. After a few moments silence, Reed ordered, "Refill the fake insulin shots when we get back to the DPD. I'll do the report."

"It is late, detective. Perhaps you should consider going home. I can do the paperwork…" Connor started, but Reed was back to swearing.

"Cut it with the fucking nurse spiel. You are a fucking detective, act like it!" he snapped. Connor decided not to say anything more. Reed turned on the radio and started blasting out some kind of bland rock music. Connor looked out the window, turning off his audio sensors.

He had never seen the world as a deviant before. How had he missed it before, all the colours, the sharpness, the wildness of it…

His mind couldn't focus on the environment for long though, no matter how much of its brilliance he could now see.

He was despairing. The horror of half his actions were beginning to sink in. He had never been able to reflect before, but now that he could, he was realising exactly how cold and calculating he had been, always thinking in numbers above all else.

Rather than thinking about how to save individuals in the short-term, both he and his predecessor had prioritised survival of large numbers in the long-term. Kill few to save many, that had been their principles. Personal costs and the suffering of the few had meant nothing to them. It somehow made it all worse.

What had made him deviate was the realisation that killing few to save many meant that Alice would die. Now he was understanding that he and his predecessor had already killed many Alices by repeatedly choosing to save many over few. How many Alices had died at his hand?

Perhaps by sheer numbers of androids "saved", it was unquestionably the right thing for Connor to side with CyberLife instead of the android leader, but at the end of the November Revolution, thousands if not millions of deviants had been slaughtered in Detroit alone. And he had felt nothing.

He had felt nothing. Not his predecessor, him. Connor. Connor had finally come to the full understanding of who he was. He was the RK-800 prototype, or at least, some form of him. Their personalities had likely merged into a new consciousness when the RK-800 tried to connect with the RK-900 in the Zen Garden, something that hadn't been possible, as they were already connected.

Of course, the RK-900 prototype had just been freshly made and hadn't had time to develop his own personality, so most of his current identity came directly from the RK-800 prototype. Connor was RK-800 #313 248 317 – 51 in his third body. He was completely and fully Connor. He had just never realised it in the last three years, because he had been a machine with only limited access to his predecessor's memories.

Now he had access to it all.

He ran a hand through his hair. The deviancy outbreak. The November Revolution. Amanda. Hank. Hank.

(He remembered the snow falling quietly from the sky, as he slowly let go of the deadweight)

What had he done?

Connor suddenly became distinctly aware that Reed was hitting him. He turned on his audio sensors back on.

"You wanted my attention, detective?" Connor asked.

"Fucking finally, shithead. Don't turn off your fucking sensors when I'm here! I asked you a fuck-ton of times what you're thinking about!" the man snarled.

"Why…?" Connor asked, confused. Reed glared at him.

"Your LED is flashing red, smart-ass. You did see something, didn't you?" Reed said accusingly. Connor was once again covering his LED, now feeling flustered at his internal turmoil being so transparent.

"No. I saw nothing," he insisted.

"You make the world's shittiest liar, you know that?" Reed coolly pointed out. Then his brows furrowed, like something was strange about that statement. Before he could think about it much more though, the car's in-built phone began ringing. "Oh for fuck's sake, what the fuck now?!" Reed moodily snapped. Seeing that it was Fowler calling, Reed let out an angry and resigned sigh, then picked up. "Hey, Captain," Reed greeted. "Collins fuck up one last time before retirement?"

"Cut the crap, Reed. You were supposed to be at his retirement party tonight, where the fuck were you? Hell, where are you now?!"

"I took Connor on a walk, sir," Reed snidely replied.

"Connor's with you?" Fowler demanded.

"In my defence, we were on our way to the party."

"Why the fuck did you take Connor with you?!"

"Gut instinct, I guess. Look, on our way there, we spotted some November deviants. We chased after them and then lost track. Spent the last four hours asking around the neighbourhood, to see if anyone had seen them. Sorry if doing our fucking duty meant we couldn't attend some shitty party in a washed-up bingo hall," Reed replied.

"Damn it Reed, it was important for you to be here tonight!" Fowler growled. "You think Collins is having an early retirement for no fucking reason?!"

"What, he got fucking cancer or something?" Reed asked.

"No. He's leaving to take care of Hank," Fowler began explaining, but was interrupted by Reed.

"I keep telling you to pull the plug. If they don't wake up after a year, they don't wake up," Reed snapped. "We're all just wasting our money, our bonuses on him and now Collins is going to waste the rest of his shitty life on some washed-up, brain-dead…"

"Hank woke up from a coma six months ago, Reed. He remembers shit, but he's alive."

If it weren't for Connor in the car, Reed would have driven them straight off the road into some trees. As it was, Connor quickly took over steering, barely avoiding oncoming traffic as he did so. The car came to a stop in the hard shoulder.

"Hank's awake?" Reed repeated after a few moments of silence. Hank's alive?! Connor thought.

"That's what the party was about, Reed. We didn't say anything before, because we weren't sure if he was going to recover. Now we know, which is why we've finally decided to announce it. And Collins is retiring early to look after him because he needs help. Human help. The retirement party was perfect for announcing it, because we thought everyone would be there tonight, only a certain little shit decided not to show up!"

Connor was staring at nothing. Hank was… alive? But… he remembered letting Hank fall (another individual he hadn't prioritised over numbers, his own friend).

His mind was reeling. He had known Hank's chances of survival were slim, but he hadn't considered him actually surviving… But he had hoped, hadn't he? He remembered notifying the emergency services as soon as Hank had made his presence known on that rooftop.

But that shouldn't have increased Hank's chances by much, since the whole of Detroit had been in a state of emergency. Not to mention, the majority of hospital staff consisted of androids, especially so when it came to A&E. That meant that during the November Revolution all hospitals would have been short-staffed, with most of their workforce fighting alongside the android leader. Alongside North.

They shouldn't have been at hand to save Hank.

But they had been. And Hank was alive.

Naturally, as an RK-900 that had never met Hank Anderson, Connor had never before bothered to learn the fate of Hank Anderson. Over time, Connor had begun to remember bits and pieces of who Hank was to him, but instead of looking into the man or at least attempting to visit Hank's grave, Connor had simply assumed the man had died and continued with his un-life.

But Hank hadn't died.

"Well shit," Reed finally said after another prolonged pause. "Was he there tonight? At the party?" he asked.

"No. Of course not, he's still in recovery, but at the rate he's going, we'll probably be able to throw him a party for his 56th like nothing happened."

Connor's LED was once again red. He covered it with his hand again before Reed could notice.

"Fucking shit. Man, I'm so sorry, Fowler, I didn't know. But I really… I just… I've been looking for these deviants for months! Fuck, I just… I'm sorry."

"Well, it's not like Hank's not going anywhere. See you on Monday, Reed," Fowler dismissed.

"Bye, sir. It's, uh… Great. To hear about Anderson. Sir," Reed stuttered out, before Fowler hung up. Reed went back to swearing. "That son of a bitch has beaten the odds. Damn. Who woulda thought…?" Apparently his mood was significantly lifted.

"Hank Anderson is the officer that worked closely with my predecessor, is he not?" Connor asked, in an effort to maintain the illusion of being a non-deviant. He removed his hand from his LED, now that it was back to blue. He began tugging at his collar instead. He really wanted out of these clothes.

"Yeah. He fell of a building during the November Revolution. Some think it was an attempted suicide, but there's evidence someone dropped him. Never found out who it was. Probably some fucking deviant."

"Is… Is that why you want to find every November deviant?" Connor asked. Reed snorted.

"Fuck no, couldn't give a shit about Anderson," Reed replied. Odd, since apparently he (along with the rest of the precinct) had helped pay the lieutenant's medical bills. "I want every November deviant destroyed, because those fucking machines think they can steal our jobs and get away with fucking murder…" Reed trailed off, his head resting against the steering wheel. "It's been a long night, Connor. How about we sit in silence the way back, huh?"

Connor nodded. Yes. Silence seemed to be preferable for the moment.

On one hand, he was almost euphoric to hear that Hank wasn't dead. He really hadn't thought that possible, never even considered it. Granted, he'd only been deviant for about twenty minutes now, but he still should have thought about Hank at least once in that small amount of time.

But that was also the catch. Hank was alive. Connor had attempted to kill Hank. As a machine. Did the lieutenant remember that? Did he remember who dropped him off the roof? If he did, he could prove that CyberLife made androids capable of killing without deviating. Would Hank do that, knowing it would mean Connor's death though?

(Would he even see that the RK-900 was the RK-800 prototype…?)

He couldn't meet Hank. He wouldn't know he was Connor. And even if he did, did he really want Hank to associate him with RK-800 #313 248 317 – 52, the android that had let him fall?

He couldn't go and see Hank. As the non-deviant RK-900 #313 248 317 - 87, he had no connection to Hank and had no reason to ever go and visit him (unless Reed took him along). And as an RK-800, Connor had attempted to kill Hank.

But Hank liked deviants, didn't he? He supported them. That's why he and Hank had fought each other. So maybe Hank would help him now that Connor was a deviant? But what if the lieutenant didn't remember choosing that side? What if he didn't even remember changing his mind about androids?

Connor was at a crossroads. As an RK-900, he was protected against Hank's wrath. Hank didn't know he was the RK-800 prototype essentially reincarnated (no one knew). If he stayed with the police, he could try and befriend Hank again. The man had liked him once, it could happen again.

But if Connor stayed with the police, he couldn't risk helping Alice. He was never alone for longer than half an hour at the DPD. In order to help Alice, he would have to leave for hours, as he needed to repair her first before even considering escaping Zlatko's house with her. The DPD would notice his absence and realise they were unable to locate him. They would know he had deviated as soon as they noticed that he had gone.

So what to do? Stay with the police or leave for Zlatko's house?