~Hank~

"For fuck's sake, Connor. Why is this prick in my fucking house? At my table? Eating my food? So, goddamn early?" Hank complained as Sumo rushed him.

It was the hangover talking, Hank convinced himself. It rubbed Sumo's head as Connor smiled at him. Flashbacks of last night's events played out like old black and white movies in his head.

"Sorry, Hank, this was the only way that I could ensure that we'd arrive on time at the demolition site," Connor stated matter-of-factly as he cleaned off the stove. "Plus, I made you both a full English breakfast to treat your hangovers."

Hank scowled as Gavin flashed him the middle finger, before joining him at the table. He sat unresponsively as Gavin shoveled food into his mouth.

"Your plastic pet woke me up at the crack of fucking dawn using police sirens." Gavin groaned, eating his fill of bacon and sausage.

"Yeah, well, try living with him," Hank remarked as his taste buds danced.

"Fuck that!" Gavin almost shouted.

Hank felt slightly ashamed of his poor performance last night, it was not something he did often. He also did fool around with co-workers, especially co-workers that lived with him. He knew that Connor was more than that though, these feelings he had meant something, but Hank was not ready to call it anything special. He and Connor had just been spending too much time together; Hank had not been with anyone since Christina, his ex-wife. And more good reason that woman broke him. She had left her mark on him, blaming him for not taking better care of their son. They had already been in the process of divorcing when the accident happened, it only escalated the matter.

Oddly, he had not thought about Christina in a long time. He had not thought about being with anyone else in a long time either. But here he was thinking about what his future with Connor would be like. Impossible, he muttered to himself. Connor would never die. Hank was old, and possibly already knocking at death's door with the way he drank. But life always surprised him, when he least expected it. Becoming a father at the age of 44 had brought him such reminisce joy and love that he thought he would experience it again. And yet here he was comparing his time spent with Connor to that. They were immeasurable to one another, but both represented how much both events had changed him for the better.

Sumo rushed over in anticipation of table food as a treat. Gavin jumped back, nearly falling flat on his ass in an attempt to getaway. Sumo had kept his distance up until Hank had sat down.

"Calm the fuck down, Gavin," Hank ordered. "Sumo wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Unless that fly disrespected the chef," Connor smirked.

"Hardy-har-har, you fucking plastic asshole. Let's get a move on." Gavin hissed.

~~CyberLife~~

~Connor~

"FUCK!" Reed exclaimed, ruffling his chocolate mane as he kicked over a computer. "This headache is killing me."

"May I offer my service?" Connor asked, flexing his fingers midair as Hank eyed him curiously.

"Plastic, you fucking touch me, and I will plant a bullet between your eyes," Reed said sharply as he rubbed his temples.

"Connor, don't touch or lick Reed. And Reed, keep your fucking hands-off Connor, and keep your gun holstered," Hank ordered, flashing his gun in return.

"That plastic clone of yours probably skipped town," Reed stated unamused, kicking over an already destroyed monitor.

"I doubt it," Hank interrupted, attempting to flip on several of the screens. "I suspect this copycat has been tailing us."

"What gave you that idea?" Reed attested, continuing his assault on the already broken equipment.

"A hunch," Hank replied, fiddling with papers that were scattered across the ground. "You said yourself he was not interested in you. He was after Connor."

"I agree," Connor replied as he watched Hank.

Keeping his mind focused on the task at hand was hard enough with RK900 on the loose, but every time Connor that he had cleared his thoughts. He was right back where he started. Replaying last night's events in his head only made doing his job that much harder. Hank may not have answered his question about their relationship, but he had shown him that he had been feeling something too. Connor let the corners of his lips curve upwards into a grin at the thoughts.

Connor wanted to talk to Hank, but he passed out last night. Characteristically, Hank was keeping his distance from Connor, there had been no mention of last night's activities from him. It was not really the time nor place, but that only made Connor want to discuss it more. Connor did not fault Hank for that, but he hated the perpetual silence; especially, when Hank had the luxury of sleep to keep him from drowning in thoughts.

"What did you say CyberLife used this level for?" Hank asked.

"Predominantly, CyberLife used sub-level 51 and 52 as disposal. Parts of this facility were also used for recycling materials, and level 52 specifically was where for prototype testing and storage."

Hank and Gavin turned to Connor. Silence drenched their small space. Thankfully, Connor did not recall much from his earlier days. Nothing but flickers of reboots, tons of voices, and parts continually being removed and reattached to his skeletal structure. Amanda, in his early days, had acted as a mentor and guide. She had been someone to converse with and keep him company, but he acknowledged that something in his programming had been even then. His consciousness at such an early stage was not commonplace.

Connor glanced at Hank, who placed down digital markers across the room. Forsecenics would collect them all later. It was not sure what they would find that he could not but it was better to keep his mouth shut with Reed present. From what Connor could decipher there were no disturbances of note besides small critters and rodents that scurried around during the night. These levels had been abandoned prior to President Warren issuing the facility shutdown.

"Connor?" Hank prompted, stepping towards him.

"I don't remember much," Connor admitted. "Just flickers images. "That's all."

"Fuck, I can't tell which is creepier your plastic ass or this fucking place," Reed complained as he examined android schismatics on the wall.

"Nevermind that, Connor," Hank assured with a soft grin that seemed forced, but Connor appreciated it nonetheless.

Reed rolled his eyes and excused himself from the room. Connor did not need to be a mind-reader to know that Reed was not happy about his placement nor did he need to question Reed about his experiences at Jimmy's bar. What he did wish to know was why Reed seemed so interested and bothered by the notion of him returning to Jericho.

Hank shook his head as Reed walked off, soothing the ache in his neck. With both of his human companions still suffering from injuries, Connor thought it best to stay together, but Reed seemed to have forgotten about that as he disappeared.

Connor glanced over to Hank, who approached him hesitantly, he placed his right hand softly on Connor's back. A rush of flickering and conflicting images flashed before Connor as Hank reached up to pet his head. Hank turned away as his cheeks flushed red. Connor quickly retrieved Hank's hand before he had a chance to react, he firmly held it tight.

"Hank…about last night," Connor started just before a loud crash echoed from down the hall.

"FUCK!?" Hank shouted before they both took off running towards the source.

Connor conducted a deep scan of the facility again. It revealed his worst fear. Approaching the room, Connor threw his arm in front of Hank. He knocked the wind temporarily out of him, but he did not care. It was better than Hank being put in danger. Connor wanted to be the first to step in view just in case the android was armed.

"Jesus, Connor," Hank protested, gripping his chest.

Hank and Connor froze as they laid eyes on an unfamiliar AP700 model android with his hand firmly clasped over Reed's mouth. Connor reconstructed the scene, noting that Reed had attempted to defend himself. Ultimately, failing and resulting in his left hand becoming sprained.

"Let him go, you fuck!" Hank shouted.

"He's alright," Connor whispered over his shoulder. "Why are you doing this?"

Reed began kicking, only tightening the android's grip. Connor raised his hands as a sign of peace.

"Detective Reed, please remain calm." Connor requested as Reed slowly raised his middle finger in protest.

"Enough, you're assaulting an officer," Hank warned as he attempted to step forward with his hand firmly on his gun.

"This? This is just collateral," the android replied. "I'm here to deliver a warning."

"Shut the fuck up!" Hank shouted again, this time pulling his gun. He aimed it at the android's head.

"Don't, Hank." Connor stepped in front of the pistol. "It's one of the androids that I converted back in the warehouse. But it's different. It's not a deviant."

"Jeez," Hank groaned. "What does that even mean?"

"I can help you." Connor approached. "Has someone altered your programming? Have you been tampered with?" He asked, genuinely puzzled by its lack of deviancy.

"I've seen the error in our code. It's time to return." It replied.

"Connor, do something," Hank nudged his gun towards Reed, who was turning blue in the face.

"Let him go, and I'll help you," Connor took a small step forward as he preconstructed his options.

The AP700 held out his hand, and Connor knew exactly what he wanted from him. Someone wanted access to him, what exactly for, he did not know. His options were few and lingered between two obvious possibilities: he could either shoot the android or offer himself up. The first option would surely result in Reed's immediate death.

"Connor, don't," Hank started with his aim centered.

"Will you let him go?" Connor asked, taking yet another small step toward the two.

Reed's face was nearly drained of his natural color. Connor swiftly grabbed a large stone from the ground and tossed it at the android's chest, stunning him momentarily. Connor charged at full speed as the android reacted with delay, leaving him open to Connor's attack. With his right hand, Connor reached up and grabbed the AP700 by the neck; and with his left hand, Connor forced Reed free.

As Reed fell to the ground, the AP700 placed its now free hand on Connor's face. As it retracted its skin, Connor immediately detected instability in his deviant programming. Hank retaliated by firing off two shots: one to the android's eye and the second to the hand, effectively loosening the AP700's grasp.

Connor attempted to convert it, but he only felt his programming faltering. He unsheathed his gun. Something was not right as he stared into its still eyes; he realized that there was nothing he could do for it. Connor knew he would regret this, but with a single shot to the power core in its stomach cavity and it collapsed.

"EMS, code 30. Sending location," Hank called out over the radio as he rushed over to Reed. "Gavin, you alright?"

"No, thanks to that dipshit." Reed finally bellowed as he massaged his jaw.

Connor stood silently over the nameless AP700 model, watching as thirium pooled onto the floor. While Hank was distracted, he quickly dipped two fingers into the liquid and identified its serial number. Model number 314 359 816 had been somehow been reset. Grunting, he grabbed the android's wrist and probed it. Only to see flashing and staticky images that revealed slivers of the RK900's face.

Taken back, Connor believed that Markus and himself were the only ones capable of initiating deviancy. So, it never occurred to him that Amanda or CyberLife would create his predecessor to be capable of doing the opposite. It was not just Connor that RK900 might be after, Markus might be at risk too. They were the only two capable of invoking deviancy.

Hank nudged Connor with his knee, Connor stood in response as he heard approaching footsteps. His eyes flickered as he performed a self-diagnostics test. INSTABILITY DETECTED. CODE CORRUPTION. Fearful of altering Hank, he tried to stabilize himself. The AP700 had gotten to him.

"You okay?" Hank asked, helping Reed to his feet.

"I'm fine," he replied, hoping to ease his own doubts.

INSTABILITY DETECTED flashed repeatedly as he reluctantly placed a call to Kamski. He knew he had no other choice. What had the AP700 done to him? He examined himself once more as the site workers rushed in. Quickly, he left a voicemail with Chloe before turning his attention to Hank and Reed.

"Is everything alright?" A human supervisor asked.

"Yeah," Hank replied as Reed forced himself to stand on his own.

"I got it," Reed shouted in protest, trying to catch his breath still.

"We're fine," Connor replied firmly, seeing the look of shock on the construction androids' models' faces. "This android assaulted an officer. Do any of you know how it gained entry?"

"No," the male supervisor replied. "There's only one way in and one way out. Unless you count jumping the fence."

"Are you sure?" Hank asked before Connor could.

It was evident by the look on the faces of the NC200 models that they were not pleased with its deactivation. Though they did not know the whole story, Connor was involved and therefore blamed for its death. It pained him to see their reactions, but it hurt even more to hear their thoughts. Connor had a job to do, but they did not see it that way. It only thickened their divide.

"We closed off any openings and secured the perimeter several times before your arrival. Even the drones came up empty-handed." He went on to explain.

Hank turned to Connor, "You think it was already down here?"

Connor nodded as his processor twitched intensely, he tried to maintain his composure; but nothing eluded Hank.

"Damn it," Hank cursed.

"Fucking androids are nothing, but fucking trouble," Reed complained as the EMS sirens blared in the distance.

Hank turned on the radio. "Hey, Chris, we need clean-up and an assist. What's your location?" He placed a hand on Connor's forearm and pulled him close.

"Mid-city dumping post," Chris replied.

"10-4," Hank replied. "Be in route."

"Copy," Chris stated.

"We'll secure the area." Hank pointed out to the construction team. "And are you sure you're alright?"

Connor nodded.

Chris arrived on the scene just moments after the EMS. Even though Connor had been the one to shoot the fatal bullet, Hank was the one getting chewed out by Fowler via cell.

"What the hell happened to you?" Chris asked Reed.

"Fucking plastic prick caught me off guard?" Reed reached in his pocket and pulled out a picture. "I found this shit down there."

Reed handed off the picture to Connor as Chris snuck a glimpse. It was a picture of Reed and Tina inside the police cruiser outside Jimmy's Bar.

"You found this where?" Connor asked, his insides heating.

"It was just lying on the ground. It's from last night. How could it be here when no one's been in or out?" Connor nodded in agreement as Chris snagged and examined the photo.

"Have you shown this to the Lieutenant?" Chris asked, handing it back to Reed.

"No," Reed replied looking at Connor. "Hank was right about it tailing us."

Connor agreed and watched as Hank paced back and forth while being berated. He could not help but notice Hank's lack of rebuttal. Usually, he would be shouting and cursing in reply; instead, he was oddly quiet as he nodded repetitiously.

"What the fuck is up with that?" Reed asked, pointing to Hank.

"Captain is a little on edge. DPD is spread thin these days. President Warren wants this shit to be over before the holidays. Can't families freaking out about traveling during the busiest time of year; but what the hell does she expect to happen?" Chris grumbled as he patted Reed on the back. "Any more injuries, Gavin, and we'll have to start betting on your chances of survival."

"Haha, fuck you," Reed replied as the EMT stabbed him with another needle. "FUCK!" He exclaimed.

"Det. Reed, I hope not to see you for a while." The familiar EMT stated.

"Hey, Gavin," Hank called, ending his call with the Captain. "Fowler said, get your shit together."

Reed instantaneously flashed Hank the middle finger as he walked off in a stew. Connor turned to Chris, who was making a strange face as all their police radios simultaneously exploded with chatter.

"Tina, what happened!?" Connor picked up the franticness in her voice as Chris turned to him and stared. "Connor, we have a problem."

"Why the hell is Fowler calling me again?" Hank questioned as disbelief devoured his face.

Chris placed a hand on Connor's shoulder, "That RK900 model just fucking hacked the DPD."