Despite having to go to his appointment, it was turning out to be a good day.
He sat in the backseat of the car, fiddling with the nickel he had found at the park as they drove, lost in thought about the case. Connor was proud of himself. His mind was behaving today, limiting the childish distractions and allowing him to process data at a semi-normal level. Perhaps indulging in his childhood gave him an outlet to free up space for his adult mind to take over.
Either way, he had only been distracted a total of three times during their trip to the clinic. Twice, silently with musings about various fish and weather or not Hank might let him get a fishtank. Once audibly when he spotted someone walking their dog and gasped out a very undignified, "doggie!"
At least Hank was kind enough not to laugh at him for that. He simply responded with, "yeah, it sure is," and a smile.
Overall, despite the lapses in concentration, the majority of the ride to the clinic was filled with the pleasant sounds of Hank's death metal and Connor's internal rambling theories about their case. He barely even realized they had arrived until the engine stopped and Hank opened his door.
"Alright, kiddo. Let's go," Hank said, opening his door and unbuckling him. He didn't mind anymore, he realized, being in the child seat. Maybe he was used to it now. "Leave your tablet and 'Gavin' here, alright? Can't bring them back with you and I'm not holding onto them."
"Right." Connor set them gently on the seat next to him before climbing out of the car. While having his turtle would be nice, he didn't need him in this particular scenario. Taking Hank's hand the two of them entered the clinic.
"Connor!" The receptionist from earlier, Eric, greeted him as soon as they walked through the doors. He seemed to be in a much better mood today. "You're right on time. I've got you all checked in, I'll take you back."
His grip on Hank's hand tightened. All at once, Connor was struck by the very childish feeling of wanting his daddy. He didn't want to go alone, even though he knew Hank couldn't come back to the repair bay with him. He understood, it wasn't abnormal for children to be uneasy at the 'doctor', but it hadn't been an issue before which meant he had regressed farther in the past couple of days. It was highly inconvenient.
Hank seemed to read him, like he usually did. Reassuring him gently with soft words and confident smiles. "You're gonna be fine, Connor," he told him quietly. "Sooner you go, the sooner you come back and we can get to work."
Right. Work. As soon as he was done here, he could get back to work. "Ok, right," he nodded, swallowing down his hesitation and giving Hank a disarming smile. There was no sense making the man worry over his irrationality. He had already been so supportive, despite how cumbersome his childish tendencies had become."And then you promised your full cooperation, remember," he reminded him.
"Yeah, yeah. I remember." Hank ruffled his hair, displacing it as he liked to do. The familiar gesture helped calm his nerves. "I'll see you soon, Kiddo."
"I'll see you soon, dad," he agreed, giving him a quick hug before going to join Eric.
Connor let his mind wander back to the case as he was usurred down the back halfway. He figured, if he could keep his attention from the appointment, it would be less daunting. Despite his new lead, they would need to handle the situation carefully. It wasn't as though they could just assume every traci model was a suspect. They would need to talk to people, figure out potential motives, arrive at a proper suspect before bringing anyone in for questioning. It would be tedious but worth it.
He was confident they would find their suspect. How many HR400 androids could there be in Detroit? They were a very exclusive model, only licensed for use by selective businesses. And of those, they had to have a connection to some kind of municipal infrastructure. Since they impersonated Mr. Sawyer, it couldn't have been a WR400, they would have the wrong basic body type.
The suspect list was certainly narrowing. Connor hadn't spent a whole lot of time at places like this, but from what he had, the only HR400 he had even seen was…
Eric walked behind him, guiding him through the clinic's hallways. He hadn't said a word since taking him back.
Connor felt as though his thirium had been replaced with ice.
They were going farther back into the building than they had last time, this wasn't where he was supposed to be. "Which technician am I going to see?" Connor questioned.
"Mr. Turner," he responded casually.
Connor slowed to a stop, his bad feeling intensifying. "Mr. Turner's office is three doors back," he observed.
He could feel Eric right behind him. He had stopped too, but it felt as though he were trying to push him forward through his presence alone. "He's doing your examination in the back room."
None of this was sitting well with Connor and he mentally berated himself for taking so long to piece together why. "Rechecks aren't standard procedure," he echoed himself from earlier. It wasn't laced with confusion this time, just a sinking realization of what was actually going on.
"You should keep walking, Connor," Eric ordered instead of addressing his statement.
Connor didn't move. He could see the end of the hall, the door labeled as an exit right in front of them. "That's how you get your victims, isn't it?" He concluded. "When they check in the first time, there is too much paperwork. It would be noticed that they were never checked out, that the technician didn't work on them."
He could hear Eric chuckling. "I knew you were too nosy for your own good."
"Why are you doing this?" He questioned. The more he got him to talk, the better. His memory files were still admissible in court. If he survived, of course. Fear crept through his system, but he forced it down to be dealt with later.
"Is that really what you should be worried about right now?" He laughed. "You're going to die. And this time, you're going to stay dead."
"You harvest biocomponents from unregistered androids," Connor pressed. "My biocomponents are proprietary, there's no marketable value in them."
"No," he agreed. "But it was only a matter of time before you got too close. You've got quite a reputation, you know."
Eric gave him a shove, indicating he wanted him to move forward. Connor held his ground. "You weren't even involved with the shooting. It was a coincidence that we came to talk to you at all."
"I sure as hell didn't know that at the time." He shoved him again, nearly making him lose his balance. I thought I'd caught a break when I found out you were the cop I'd killed. Imagine my surprise when you showed up at the clinic in a shiny new body."
It took all of Connor's willpower not to shake. "I'm not particularly easy to kill."
Connor heard the click of a gun's safety being released. "I'd be happy to test that theory. Keep walking."
He steeled himself, making sure his features didn't display the terror he felt. He didn't want to give him the pleasure. He turned and faced his assailant, gun barrel coming level with his head. "Go ahead," he taunted. "Shoot."
Eric's finger tightened on the trigger, but he didn't pull it. Connor could hear his thirium pump beating in his ears. "That's what I thought," he kept his voice level. "There's no way people wouldn't hear a gunshot. I might be dead, but you would get caught in no time."
The look on Eric's face told Connor that he knew he was right.
Connor took his chance, charging forward and letting his fear manifest as adrenaline as he made his escape. He only made it two steps before a hand clamped down around his wrist pulling him back.
He was a tactical android, the most advanced prototype to ever come out of CyberLife. He had extensive programming in multiple forms of martial arts from capoeira to judo. But all of that was for use with his adult body and six feet of military grade android was vastly different from forty five pounds of toddler.
No matter how Connor kicked, hit or scratched, Eric kept a firm hold on him. A hand clenched over his mouth, blocking any chance of crying out. "The less you struggle, the less painful this will be," he grunted out as Connor fought.
He responded by biting down on the hand at his mouth. Hard. Connor could feel his attacker's chassis crack under the pressure and thirium ran down his chin from the wound.
However, not all androids were built with an advanced synthetic nervous symptom. While he was certain that the damage hurt, the string of expletives Eric uttered were proof of that, it was not enough to get him to relinquish his hold.
Despite Connor's efforts, he was pulled farther and farther from the door to his escape. Panic only increased in him the more distance there was between him and the exit, between him and freedom. Between him and Hank. The only sound he could force out was a strangled sob.
Eric kicked open the rear door, cracking Connor's head on the frame as he pulled him through. Spots danced in his vision from the force. "Start the car, Nate," he heard him shout.
Another android joined Eric, an AK700, if Connor was correct. If he had been powerless against the one, he stood no chance now that there were two of them. Within moments, he was bound head to toe and gagged with frustrating efficiency.
As Connor was deposited roughly onto the floor of their van, he couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for Hank to realize he was gone.
