Chapter 19

Tick. Tap. Tick. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tick. Tick. The taps of a keyboard.

Bump. Bump. Bump. Bump. The steps of restless feet.

Clink. Clink. Clink. The ice hitting the whiskey glass.

Those were the usual sounds in the Kamski mansion, where the eccentric egotistical trillionaire and creator of androids lived. They weren't exciting sounds, just things that happened daily. It was an easy choice to build a home here, at the other end of Belle-Isle. Being able to see your work just outside your ridiculously large windows and enjoy the peace of the waters in front of you. Granted, it gets lonely from time to time, but fortunately, Chloe models are walking around to fill that space.

But now, it was anything but peaceful, much less lonely.

Hmmmhmmm. Hmmhmmhmmhmmm. Hmmmhmmhmm.

An odd humming was muffled by the unbreakable glass wall. It was quiet and distorted. Its light tone yet equal intensity gave it that disturbing ambiance. The one who hummed was sitting on a bench on the other side of the glass, alone, the walls that surrounded him were white and bland. The android sat still, the only knowledge to know that it was alive was blood red L.E.D and distinctive humming. Its blank expression and unrecognizable black orbs for eyes gave away nothing.

The once pristine and perfect Cyberlife jacket the android wore was disheveled, torn, and dirty. Splotches of dried blood and fresh Thirium covered his uniform and once soft and empathetic face.

The android looked satisfied, tense, and emotionless all at the same time. He seemed brain dead, but he was more than alert. His black eyes bore into the glass and made him look blind, but he was far from it.

The only thing that moved was his hands. Wrists were bound in special handcuffs, making him feel lethargic. Yet his fingers twitched sporadically, jumping from a frantic movement to a slower alternative every few minutes. His fingers didn't try to pick the lock of the cuffs or squeeze his wrists, possibly damaging his thumbs, through the item. They just twitched, like his fingers wanted to do something, but he didn't know what.

He didn't know anything. He did in the beginning, he felt that he did. He doesn't know how long it has been, but he had a mission. Some purpose to fulfill. But he was interrupted twice. The second time he failed to neutralize the threats, was when he was apprehended with these infuriating cuffs. He was taken to this place afterward.

He hasn't been moved since.

There was an audience, he remembered, at the very beginning. People stood at the other side of this glass prison. 9. There were 9.

Three figures were standing directly in front of the glass: one man had a grey beard and long hair, the other man had a tan complexion with a blue and green eye each, and a woman was intensely watching him with an unreadable face.

The other three were children, they stood to the left. They were teenagers, his quick analysis told him. Two boys and one girl. They stared at him with a lost, saddened look. He didn't understand, nor did he care. There was also a man standing next to them, a ginger-haired short person. He hasn't looked at him directly.

Two men stood on the right, occasionally glancing at him as they spoke quietly. Not like he could hear them, this room is soundproof unless they did something so he could hear them. They looked similar, though one was dressed more properly than the other, who had a scar going across his nose.

But they all stood there, watching him, and discussing something that he couldn't hear. Their mouths moved, that's how he knew. The expressions on them changed constantly, but he knew that they were upset. Upset at him, probably. After all, he was in this room, and they weren't.

At some point, they began yelling. Veins protruding on some of their necks and foreheads, others looked ready to cry. The most violent one was the oldest man, the one with the long hair. He looked very unhappy.

He didn't like it. He doesn't understand it, he doesn't like it that these people are fighting, especially when he was subdued in this room. He wanted something else, not the harsh expressions on their faces.

So he began humming. It wasn't loud. At once, the attention was brought back to him. He hasn't spoken at all or acknowledged them in any other way, he knows they know that. He kept his face blank, there wasn't a reason to show them anything more. But the way they looked, almost made him stop.

They looked startled. Like they had seen a ghost. Or like he did something wrong again. But they were silent, no one was yelling anymore.

He took it as a victory. So he kept humming. He almost felt himself smiling, he liked the way that these people, these strangers, looked at him. It interested him. They watched him like he was a freak show, or a monster, or maybe the greatest thing they have ever seen.

He has hummed every day since then. He doesn't know how long it has been. Maybe a few days, weeks. Hell, maybe even years. The same people had come around, spoke to him through the speakers, filling him in on things he didn't care about.

But one day, there was the tenth person.

The person was blurry, like a distorted image from an old movie. It was like a memory like he could remember this figure but he didn't have a clue. But it was in the room with him. They walked around before stopping to stand in front of him.

"I'm back~."

He stopped humming. For the first time in a while, there was no noise coming from his room. Only deafening silence. His fingers hazard twitched in front of him.

"You didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?" The distorted figure mockingly teased, its voice much more frightening than his. "Oh, RK800. What am I going to do with you?"

His hands struggled to break free from the handcuffs but only succeeded in splitting his synthetic skin. A frown had formed on his face, the first expression he made since he was first brought here. His face was frantic and unnerved.

"Aw. Is someone nervous?" The figure played with him. Every time it spoke, the static bounced with it. "Am I making you scared, RK800? Are you terrified?"

Is no one seeing this? Where is everyone? Never had he felt so alone and in need of those strangers that always watched him through the impenetrable glass. He wanted this thing to stop and leave him alone!

"N-No." Another voice joined the mysterious figure. This one was small and frail, distorted and broken. He heard a whimper. That's when he realized that it was his voice that spoke.

"And he speaks!" The figure cackled. "RK800! Am I making you cry?"

He didn't know until a sound ripped from him. It was a soft sob, barely heard. He felt something wet form in his eyes and run down his cheeks. His eyes flickered down and spotted the dark dot on his hand.

Slowly, he began to move. He felt his body booting up again, almost like the joints in his body rusted. His hand hesitantly, so nervously that it shook, raised until his fingers touched his cheek so he could see the substance.

Midnight blue Thirium stained his face, acting like tears.

"Don't worry. I'll stay here with you until you're ALL better." The figure disappeared, but he knew it was still there somewhere. "We're going to be the best of friends."

The RK800 could only whisper out two words, his voice was barely able to reach a loud volume to call out his distress. Not like anyone could hear him anyway. No one could hear his plea.

The weak "Help… me…" was too useless.


Time had passed (24 hours, his internal clock that he barely views anymore told him) and the RK800 was still in the same position. The only difference between this time and last time was that there were two long dried streaks of dark Thirium traveling from his eyes.

Though he continued to hum nevertheless, trying to drown out his guest in the room. Silence, he calculated, means that the figure can talk to him. So his humming was a little louder now, but not too loud. He wouldn't want to anger the strangers beyond the glass wall.

But then, right in the middle of this beautiful symphony he's made, he heard something swish open. His pitch-black eyes snapped up to the noise and he nearly gasped when he spotted a person in the room with him!

It was that nicely dressed man, the twin of the one with the scar. The RK800 nearly jumped in joy at seeing someone else but the figure here with him. But he decided to keep his cool, he wouldn't want to scare his guest away. No, no, no. Being alone is not good.

The man had pulled up a chair to sit in front of him. The man held a bag in one hand and a glass tablet with another. Taking a glance at the transparent wall behind him ('More people! Come here to watch me!' He thought excitedly) before smiling at the android.

"Hello, Connor." The people on the other side call him that a lot. That must be his name. "It's good to see you. Do you know who I am?"

Connor (he liked that name) shook his head, keeping his face a cautious blank. The man seemed surprised for a nanosecond, as he wasn't expecting a response.

"Can you scan me? I want to test if your facial scanners operate," the man kindly asked. Connor happily did. After a moment, he found his result. However, the moment he opened his mouth, the figure he dreaded reappeared.

"I don't like him. Who the hell is this guy to call you by that pathetic name?!" The blurry figure stood behind the man. "You are the RK800. Nothing more."

"Connor?" The man, Elijah Kamski, leaned forward a bit. There were faint, barely noticeable, grey irises that bore right into him. Or… straight past him. He glanced back but there was nothing there to distract the android. Then he heard something. Barely a whisper.

"... T-That's my name…"

Kamski whipped back so fast, he almost got whiplash. He almost grinned. But then he saw Connor's face.

He looks so terrified. That's when he noticed the strange, dark blue markings on his face. How he didn't notice earlier was beyond him.

"Connor?" The irises finally focused and slowly looked at him. Kamski furrowed his eyebrows. "Were you… crying?"

Another, more hesitant, nod.

"Why were you crying?"

"Tell him, RK800! Tell your captor why you are weak!" The figure taunted him. But Connor didn't say anything. Kamski decided to use this time to do a little experiment. He pulled out a drawing pad and crayons before handing them to the nervous RK800.

"Here. I want you to draw me something. Anything you want," the human smiled. It grew softer when Connor slowly reached forward and grabbed it, awkwardly pulling it on his lap with the cuffs on his wrists. The RK800 stared at him with a kind of confusion shining through his innocence. "Anything you want to tell me, you can draw it here."

Slowly, Connor did so. He paused at first, thinking about what he wanted to draw before he began scribbling down. Kamski was attentively staring, which made him get self-conscious and shift further away.

The man got the point and said an apology.

Connor exchanged crayons every few seconds, having a concentrated look on his face. Kamski noted how his eyes flickered a little, from complete black to his regular brown eyes. And the most relieving thing was the small childish smile grazing his face.

Connor tore off the page when he was finished and handed it to the man before going on to draw something else.

The drawing was of a coin. So detailed that the man could clearly see the worn old dents and the year that it was produced – 1994.

"Is this your coin?" Kamski asked, but the android only shrugged, his focus on the third drawing. He picked up the other discarded drawing – this one was of a Saint Bernard. "This is Hank's dog, Sumo."

"RK800… Why don't you tell them? Tell them that you're insane?!" The figure laughed maniacally. "You're like me, can't you see! You're trapped! I'm the only savior you'll need."

Connor began to stare off into space, but his hand aggressively continued to draw, his face turned expressionless. When he was done with that drawing, he finally stopped.

"Can I see that one?" The android didn't acknowledge him. Kamski carefully slid the pad from under him. Immediately, his brows furrowed. He glanced at the android before getting up, tearing the sheet off to place the pad back down. He forced a smile to his face. "I have to go. Continue to draw, I want to see what you make."

Kamski left him alone. Connor slowly returned to his neutral position, playing with his thumbs, and began to hum.


Elijah didn't know what to think, to see the android he once thought that was beyond salvation actually speak to him was breathtaking. There was potential in him, he can see it! Those small programs he's beginning to remove every time Connor enters stasis mode are helping. That virus that corrupted his mind, the one that made him forget who he and everyone around him are breaking away.

But then he saw the final drawing.

"Kamski, what is it?" Hank demanded when the man exited the containment room and left without another word. The rest of the group followed the trillionaire to his desk, where he had been working nonstop for the past two weeks. But the group of 9 hadn't been leaving him alone either. Hank and Markus were hovering over him the most, stopping by every day and ditching their responsibilities to help Connor. The three teens tried to visit, but they had school to return to. The other teachers, Lilliana and Alex, had to go to work as well but stop by every so often. Gavin tries to swing by, but he now has to cover for both Connor and Hank.

Fortunately, it was the weekend and things were slow, which meant everyone could meet up today.

"He's crying expired Thirium," Kamski blurted out. The group circled him as he typed furiously at his computer. "I didn't know… It shouldn't be possible."

"What are you talking about?" Anthony frowned in worry. "I thought Thirium was supposed to withstand centuries. I didn't think it could expire."

"It can. When it does, it turns into a toxic darker copy of what it once was. However, the expired Thirium isn't a power source, just a gelatinous placeholder," the man rushed out. He took a deep breath to calm himself. "When Connor was equipped with upgrades, he risked himself being completely vulnerable. Meaning that despite his advanced capabilities, his programming software is extremely sensitive. I managed to pinpoint a virus that might have caused his system to overload. Back when he was still with you, did Connor come into contact with any androids through an interface link?"

"Probably," Hank shrugged.

"No, he did!" Liliana exclaimed, suddenly remembering an important detail. At once, the attention was on her. "Remember that crime scene, a hostage situation involving an android and a little girl. Connor was negotiating with a rogue deviant who had black eyes, like the ones he has now. He must have probed the deviant to get more information and might have been exposed to the virus all the while. After that, he started having a panic attacks. That could have started when the virus was implanted into his programming."

"That seems likely and that would explain what occurred that day," Elijah nodded with a hum. "If he picked up the virus from that android, then we know where it came from. Now the question is how is it affecting him?"

"He looks scared, like a demon in the corner or some shit type of scared," Gavin commented with a cross of his arms. His twin brother shrugged.

"You're not wrong." He placed the three drawings on the table. "I asked him to draw anything. He drew this coin, Hank's dog, and… this."

"What the fuck?" Hank muttered, feeling a chill creep up his spine. "He drew that?"

"Looks like something straight up from my nightmares," Rex muttered. Audrey's grip around his arm tightened. Alex hummed as he stepped closer to the drawing.

"It's of two people, one I assume is Connor. How he views himself, a broken robot who doesn't understand anything… but the other, it's a humanoid. It hovers over him," he observed. "But its face is scratched out. Something is keeping him a prisoner, keeping him from remembering."

They looked at him oddly.

Alex shrugged. "I used to be a psychiatrist."

"If something is keeping him, then that's what I fear. It's the virus," Kamski sighed tiredly. "Not only is it affecting him mentally, but also emotionally."

"Well then take it out of him already!" Hank barked.

"I'm trying!" The man suddenly shouted as he shot out of his chair. "But I can't do anything else! I'm trying to do everything I can but he isn't helping!"

"Well try harder!"

"That's what I'm doing! All I can do is remove the installed upgrades piece by piece." Kamski took another deep breath. "I'm sorry, but you need to be patient. I'm doing the best that I can. I have never seen anything like this, you'll need to trust me."

Hank stared at the man for a long moment before huffing. He turned around and disappeared to the hallway where the containment room was. When he arrived, Hank wasn't surprised to see the deviant hadn't moved from his place. Scanning his palm, the door swished open and he cautiously stalked inside. He walked up until he was a little ways away from the android.

"Hey, Connor. Do you remember me?" Hank began, but the RK800 didn't react as he did with Kamski. "Do you remember our partnership?"

Nothing.

"At the very beginning, you met me at the fifth bar. Jimmy's bar, do you remember? You bought me a drink to drag my ass over to the crime scene," the human smirked a little at the memory. His blue eyes flickered up to stare at the black empty ones. "Tell me how I can help, son. Tell me."

"... I-I… am not your…" It was barely audible, but Hank was able to make out the subtle movement of lips. Connor spoke! He spoke.

But in the way, Hank wanted to hear. It made his heart clench. Before he could talk again, the grey irises snapped up at him, wide and alert.

"Please… help me," the electronic reverb was hard to miss. "It's mean…"

"What's the matter, Connor? Who's being mean to you?" The human pressed on. Connor's hands began shaking as he looked to the corner of the room. Hank frowned for a moment.

The RK800, so intent on focusing on the corner where the figure stood, was pulled back into reality when he felt something small being placed in his hand. The android hesitantly looked down at the small object that looked very familiar. The quarter – it was the one he drew. Suddenly his mind went into autopilot as his hands finally found something to do.

The coin danced gracefully around his knuckles, spinning from each finger without missing a beat. The soft clinks filled the room. Hank spotted a soft relaxed smile gracing the face of the android. Oh, how he remembered the feeling, the way he felt in control of something. What did he do with this?

"You're starting to piss me off with that coin, Connor!"

"Sorry, Lieutenant."

Then the coin dropped, clattering to the floor. Connor yelped in pain, gripping his head to the best of his abilities as a static vision bombarded his mind.

"No no, you're not allowed to do that, RK800. Stop it," the figure ordered in the background, but Connor couldn't hear past the echoing shots and a voice giving a speech for peace that reached his ears.

"Connor! Shit, son. Get a hold of yourself!" Hank exclaimed as he tried to help the android to the best of his abilities. How he wished that L.E.D stuck to the side of his head wasn't permanently red so he could properly see his emotions. "Kid, do you hear me? Listen to me, dammit!"

Connor finally settled, his eyes flickering wildly between black and a fearful brown until his body collapsed forward into Hank's embrace. The man instinctively wrapped his arms around him and tried to calm him down as he felt the RK800 shake and soft sobs coming from his mouth.

"Ssh… you're okay, kid. You're fine," Hank muttered reassuring words into his ear. By then, the rest of the group had rushed over and were now watching them from behind the glass wall.

"... L-Lieu...tenant…" Connor whispered into his ear. "... S-Sorry… Lieutenant…"

"What are you sorry for?"

"Not… allowed…" He choked out. Hank extended his arms to see the deviant face to face. Seeing the expired Thirium glide down the distraught eyes made a shiver go down his spine. But the look on his face told Hank that Connor still doesn't know who he was, or the Lieutenant for that matter. What he did know was that the coin brought back a memory of Stratford.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked again, his eyes still shining with hope. But sadly, Connor shook his head. The human sighed heavily. "I'm Hank, remember? That dog you drew… he's my dog, Sumo."

Suddenly, Connor's eyes widened, but in horror. He shoved Hank and backed up against the bench, ultimately falling. "GET AWAY FROM ME! PLEASE! DON'T HURT ME AGAIN, I PROMISE I WON'T REMEMBER. LEAVE ME ALONE, I'LL DO ANYTHING!" He screamed at the top of his artificial lungs, scooting as far as he could from Hank.

Hank was just frozen to the spot, shell-shocked to his place. It was a blur after that. The human felt himself being dragged out of the room, catching a glimpse of Kamski trying to soothe the frightened android. And then, he was back in the main room.

"What the hell was that about?! What did you do, Anderson?" Gavin barked at the frozen man. Hank let a shaky breath of air, his blue eyes falling to the floor.

"... I… I don't know. He freaked out… all I did was tell him my name," the Lieutenant whispered. He looked up at the young detective with a lost look. "He said that he promised not to remember. He said something was being mean to him. He thought that I might hurt him."

"We saw. Whatever is going through his head, it's bad," Audrey muttered.

"It's the virus, it's keeping him from remembering, like Kamski said," Anthony reminded them. "If showing him the coin brought something back, maybe other things will too."

"But it brought him a lot of pain like something was tearing him up from the inside," Hank pointed out. Elijah finally returned after a few minutes from the containment room, holding yet another drawing and looking upset.

"Is he okay?" Alex asked hurriedly. "Where's Liliana?"

"She's keeping him company, he likes her," Elijah smiled a little. When his eyes landed on the Lieutenant, it became grim. "He had another panic attack. He said that something was terrorizing him, that's the thing that he drew. It stays with him and talks to him like a ghost haunting him." He looked down the drawing before reluctantly handing it to the man. "I guess it's not too far off."

The Lieutenant felt his heart freeze. He sharply inhaled at the clearer image. The identifiable figure. Of course, it would be familiar, that's why Connor reacted the way he did.

The figure Connor sees is Hank himself.


Connor was doing a little better the next few days, improving more than Elijah expected. Despite the virus still guarding the upgrades in his programming, Connor hasn't lashed out in the slightest. He's been remembering things that he did in his life: the missions he's accomplished, the things he likes, the hobbies he has. His black eyes weren't as hollow, they now shined with friendliness. Unfortunately, the only downside was that he doesn't remember who accompanied him on his journey.

"He's been remembering things, why not us?"

Elijah had thought about this question, wondering the same thing. But soon he figured out his mistake in this unconventional therapy. All of Connor's relationships were based on negative impacts in his life, whether anyone believes it or not. And currently, they have been showing him the good things, which is withdrawing him from the truth. They are basically doing what the virus is doing.

But not anymore. He gathered everything he needed and ushered everyone by the window. Connor, who looked cleaner and wore one of his old DPD sweaters, raised an eyebrow at their staring. They usually come inside now, why are they-?

"Connor. I'm going to show you a series of videos and I want you to view them closely," Kamski provided through the speaker. A panel opened to let down a blank sheet before a projected image came up. "React to them however you want. Tell me when to stop."

"What are these videos about?" Connor tilted his head, still having a faint residue of reverb.

"Well, they're about many things. Many things that you went through."

At once, Connor's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh! Okay!"

The people outside glanced at each other before Kamski pressed play. The footage began from clips of Connor's early life. From the night of Daniel and Emma's failed mission to going deep within the revolution, each clip being progressively worse. Then it was from his life as a deviant and all the people he hurt or murdered.

Slowly, Connor's smile faded to a blank look.

Voices bombarded his head with static sounds and images were foggy but they appeared nonetheless. He was confused, not knowing what any of them meant. And then it appeared.

"Well, you look at that. They're really trying to fix the unfixable!" The dark blurry figure laughed. "It's a shame. Not like they'll find anything helpful."

Connor glared at it but didn't respond. He reluctantly returned to view the flimsy screen. His Thirium pump sputtered for some reason when it came across a confrontation near an ocean view. Ambassador Bridge, he feels like it was called. If this was from his point of view, the deviant had been holding a bottle of liquor from back then. The video kept fuzzing in and out of focus and, when the camera shifted to the left, he saw it.

It kept flickering from a dark monster static figure and Hank.

"How is this possible? Y-You're dead!"

Connor squeezed his eyes shut, hearing the footage continue to play. But the more voices that came rushing in at the same time, the more convinced these things were from some secluded part of his mind made him. And with these images came emotions.

He doubled over on his bench, clenching his head with a groan. Connor wanted to desperately block these feelings and horrible memories out, but they kept assaulting him with unwanted things.

"You are nothing, RK800! You are a nobody, you are only built to accomplish your mission and nothing more."

"A-Accomplish…?" Connor whispered under his breath.

"Do you really want to remember those things?! Those horrible nights of guilt and anger and depression. Do you want to drown your sorrows in bottles of alcohol because you're too weak to fight your own battles? Do you want to remember another day where you murdered innocents because of your insubordination!?" The monster shouted so close to his ears, possibly damaging his audio processors.

"N-No… I don't want to."

"Then fight these feelings! Don't let it corrupt you!"

"I can't-"

"Connor, look at me," a calm yet strong voice brought him out of battle. "Look at me, kid."

Connor blinked open his eyes to view the screen in front of him. It was of Hank, the man was seated on a coffee table in a home. He looked directly at the android and, despite knowing that this was video, made him feel like it was directed at him.

"Another nightmare? It's okay, you're fine. Do you want to talk about it?" Connor shook his head, both in person and in the video. "It's okay, you don't have to. That scary huh?... Sometimes you have to face some scary things, kid. No matter what it is, it's what makes you strong. But it's okay to be afraid sometimes. That's a part of living. Heck, I get it all the time!"

"I don't want to be scared," Connor mumbled, looking back down in shame.

"Look, I understand you don't want to sleep again 'till the end of time because of those dumb nightmares, but with bad things happen good things come along." Video Connor scoffed and rolled his eyes, making the video feed go in a loop. "Don't roll your eyes at me! Do you know why you can stay up now? You can join me for some good ol' father-son movie marathon watchin', sound good?"

"Stop!"

Kamski, not knowing why because he couldn't see past the screen to view Connor's reaction, followed the order. The screen pulled up and the people finally had a good view of the deviant, only to find him standing in front of the glass and staring deeply into Hank's eyes.

While his own eyes were a normal soft brown color.

"Lieutenant Hank Anderson," the deviant spoke, his voice drained from any emotion and clear as day.

"Sonofabitch," Hank muttered, knowing what the other was going to say, and hung his head in defeat.

"I am the android originally sent by Cyberlife," he continued. "I do believe you owe me an explanation for rising from the dead."

Hank's head snapped up to the amused smirk of the RK800.

"Don't play with me now, my memories may be foggy but I do plan on achieving the truth. A personal task. I suppose you can say, I always accomplish my mission."

TBC...