November 8th, 2038

PM 06:53:48


Sweat beaded on your forehead, mixing with the freezing rain that'd heated on contact with your skin and melted snow. You had a headache. Felt weak. Tried to swallow the itch in your throat. It wouldn't leave.

You turned your chin, staring at a group of civilians huddled over a barrel fire. Violent chills rattled your body, shivering in a wet jacket that stuck to the police cruiser's leather seats.

What better role in society for a spy to be placed than in the police force that set up barricades and closed streets, funneling free spirits into neatly organized corridors and detours?

You sniffed and coughed into a fist before returning it to your lap.

"Sounds like you're getting sick." Chris kept driving, his voice low and somber.

Your temperature was running high – a symptom of an underlying condition. A natural bodily defense against infection.

And your body was fighting off something, alright.

The wolf that swore to serve and protect law and order. The wolf that howled defiantly at the moon, a celestial figure that directed the tides of change. The embers of their war had been carried on strong winds, gliding under your wings until everything was hot to the touch.

Connor led the others as they'd tried to throw sand on that fire; to snuff it out and keep it contained. You'd turned his efforts into plains of glass, lined with sharp edges that marked a lair where angels feared to tread. Used the planks of his safe harbor for kindle and set fire to the sails he'd tried to help you sew.

A firestorm had purged your humane impurities and hammered down a new frame under your flesh. The strongest steel is forged in the hottest fires, as they say.

"Just a fever."

In a world where even choices born of free will had to be bound by civil justice, you hadn't known how strong you were until being strong was the only choice you had left.

"Get anything useful out of the android?"

He huffed, cracking his wrist as it rested on the steering wheel, "You just keep pretending like everything's alright, don't you?"

Your neck whipped around, face crinkling in irritation, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not actually stupid." He glared at you from under the rim of his hat before focusing on the road, "I'm a good cop. And you're tied up in something big. I can feel it."

"What?"

"My spidey senses are tingling."

You rubbed your temples, "What are you talking about?"

"I saw pictures, in the house. Pictures that Saul couldn't talk about." He rolled his shoulders, fidgeting in his seat, "You, in a dress…with Elijah goddamn Kamski and Carl freakin' Manfred."

A vice clamped your chest, squeezing the glass case around a heart that throbbed. The crystalline dust from each splintering crack cut at your lungs.

"I know you have questions-"

"And I know you can't answer them. But I can put two and two together…"

You inhaled, body shaking as you let it out.

"An ex-husband you never talk about. Your name hidden in the system. Going out on some rogue mission with Anderson and Connor to a place you can't disclose. I get it."

"Chris, you can't-" You twisted in your seat, grabbing the shoulder of the back support, "You can't go sticking your nose into this."

"Hell no. Pfft-" He rasped, "Like I said, I'm not stupid. I want no part in whatever CyberLife super spy crap you've got going on."

Your brows pinched, "Super…spy?"

"Judging from those pictures, you obviously have history with the richest, most popular, most influential, man in the world who just happened to leave CyberLife for 'unknown reasons.' Then, you just happened to end up as a cop in the epicenter of the world's biggest community crisis since World War II?" He pursed his lips, looking at you from over his arm, "C'mon. You're totally undercover CyberLife."

"Chris, I'm not working for them, I'm-"

You stopped yourself. Couldn't get him involved. Wished you hadn't even gave him that much.

He blinked, brows slowly meeting each other as his playful demeanor was kicked to the curb.

"Are you running from them?"

Your hand squeezed the piece of cushion locked in your fingers.

"Is that why…" His eyes bounced between you, the transmission, and the wheel in his hands.

A car beeped behind you, and he jumped. The light had turned green.

"What the fuck?"

"Drop it, Miller." You barked, covering your mouth as you coughed, "We need to stop talking about this-"

Your back hit the seat as he took a sharp turn.

"Jesus Christ, what the-"

You caught yourself on the dashboard as he slammed on the brakes, a horn blaring from a passing car. He'd pulled over in the shoulder, angrily pressing the button for the cruiser's blinkers.

"What happened?"

"I can't tell you. That's what I've been trying to-"

"If I'm gonna be putting my ass on the line for someone who's wrapped up in some CyberLife conspiracy, I deserve to know why."

"You shouldn't be." You growled, "You've got a family. You-"

"You're my family too, asshole!"

"I'm not your wife or your fucking kid, Chris-"

"I-"

"No, stop interrupting me." You pointed a finger at him, "I already lost one partner because I put my past priorities first, and I'm not losing another one…" You crossed your arms, back digging into your seat, "So shut up and drive."

"Yeah…Yeah, okay." He threw the car out of park, and locked the doors.

You jumped at the chorus of "clicks" that came from either side.

"I'm taking your ass home."

"What?!"

"We're all on call. Mandatory overtime, remember?"

"That's not-"

"Fowler wanted this transition to be gradual. I'm going back to the station and write the report. Hope you brought your duffle."

Your fists balled in your lap, teeth grinding against each other, "You've got enough to deal with at home without falling on the sword."

"Someone's gotta take a turn, right?"

"We share the workload, Miller. We're partners."

"Apparently not."

You rolled your eyes, "Oh, here we go!"

"Look," He shot you a glare, his hat's DPD emblem flashing in the rainy sun, "I'm just following orders, alright? Don't make this difficult."

"ME?!"

"Yeah, YOU."

Fowler was punishing you with work restrictions. Hank was mad at you. Judging from the lack of texts on your phone, Connor was mad at you. Carl seemed disappointed in you. Now, you had Chris shutting you out.

You knew you'd fucked up when you realized the only one who's shit list you didn't end up on was Gavin's.

It all had been a test. One you failed harder than the early androids and the Turing Test. A single human entity that was told to distinguish text dialogue from a machine or human, all separate from another. You wondered which side of that test you'd be on; if they'd see you as the machine rather than Connor.

You'd started your morning in playful teasing with him. Spent your afternoon in the company of a ghost, trying to reel in what little wisps of your soul you could catch.

You didn't have any plans for the night except drinking – a lot…

To put blood in the cut and bandage the festering wounds after thorough sterilization.

Sweating it out was how you dealt with fevers, anyway. Fuck them if they didn't understand. They didn't need to.

It's not like anyone ever could.

A woman stood next to you in the elevator, her dog barking from her arm as you hunkered down in the corner. She was wearing a green dress, her jewelry made of pearls. Red lipstick perfectly lined each curve of her lips, and her hair was straight and dry.

You were soaking wet, your DPD jacket sagging even with a duffle bag hung over your shoulder. Your hair was a mess – frazzled, no matter how much you'd tried to smooth it out after you'd taken off your hat.

"And which party are you breaking up tonight, Officer?"

You swallowed, looking at the Chihuahua growling at you.

Your harsh gaze lifted to hers, and her nose crinkled. You wanted to tell her that your ex-husband paid for the building's construction. That your apartment had been the weekend home.

"I live here."

You reached forward, hitting the penthouse button with an "S" next to it. She gawked at you, the mid-level apartments glowing at her previous touch.

You smirked.

That was satisfaction, enough.

Your phone vibrated, and you opened it all too quick; your jacket slinging water at the woman and earning you a heated scowl.

It wasn't from Connor. You'd really been hoping.

[1 UNREAD TEXT MESSAGE]

Carl Manfred

Today 18:50

Hey, kid. I'd appreciate it if you made time to keep in touch during your conquest to bring social justice to the world.

To: Carl Manfred

Tight schedule. That new android texting service is doing wonders for you, I see.

Message Sent

Carl Manfred

Today 18:51

I talk, he texts – all under my phone number. It's great.

Carl Manfred

Today 18:51

So, is that a yes?

To: Carl Manfred

I'll try and make time, Carl.

Message Sent

Carl Manfred

Today 18:52

Don't "try," just "do." Going off health conditions, we're running out of time.

To: Carl Manfred

Don't say that…You're a spunky old man who won't go down without a fight.

Message Sent

Carl Manfred

Today 18:53

I was talking about you, not me. As reckless as you are, I'll outlive you, at this rate.

The elevator doors almost closed, and someone shoved a hand between them. You scoffed, burying your face back into the screen in your palm.

To: Carl Manfred

Thanks. -_-

Message Sent

You clicked the lock screen, and tucked the phone away inside your jacket. Adjusted the strap on your shoulder, jamming your hands in your pockets. The elevator came to a crawl; the halting, sinking feeling adding to your headache. That split second when you're braking upwards, praying the cables don't snap to send you plummeting to the bottom.

You leaned your head against the wall, closing your eyes and tuning out the heel clicks that faded along with the stupid dog's constant fucking barking.

It was quiet. Silent. Peaceful. You were alone, left to your own devices without anyone to stop you from hitting rock bottom.

A hand gripped your shoulder.

Not alone.

Your eyes shot open. Your holster unclicked. You grabbed scratchy fabric in one hand, and pressed your gun to someone's throat with the other. The curve of your boot hooked around the back of their ankle, and you had them pinned against the elevator's closed doors.

Two wide eyes flickered between a quick series of blinks. The brown pools of amber seemed to glow in the stark light, hardening next to a yellow LED.

"Good afternoon, Officer."

Your angry growl erupted into an outburst, "Goddamn it, Connor-"

You pushed hot air through your nose, holstering your gun, "What did I tell you about sneaking up on me?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, fixing his tie as you let him go.

He was soaking wet, his hair messy and out of place. The seams at the end of his jeans were frayed and stained with rainwater. The denim covering his knees were worn, whitening the dark fabric. His jacket was wrinkled – creasing around his form.

You weren't the only one looking worse for wear.

"I didn't know how else to get your attention."

The elevator started moving, and your legs adjusted themselves to keep their balance.

"If you came here to tell me how you're worried about me or disappointed in how I've been handling things, I'm not interested."

"I'm not-"

"It's been a long day."

His presence was supposed to be calming. Had always slipped through the walls you put up. You were numb; couldn't feel. There was nothing except…anger.

"You said the apartment would serve as a nest. Like for birds, 'strayed and fatigued by flight.'" He swallowed hard, a nervous tick he'd probably picked up from you, "Has something changed?"

Your muscles tensed, watching the ascending light on the elevator's panel. 20 floors to go.

"No."

"Then why do you seem upset I'm here?"

"I'm not, okay?" You unfolded your arms, "I just need-"

"What?" His shoes squeaked as he took a step forward, "Tell me what you need-"

"I need to be alone."

The elevator slowed, a chime coming from a blinking button. Someone had called it.

Connor sucked in a breath as the doors began to open, slamming his hand into the stainless-steel wall so hard it left a dent.

His arm stemmed from the impact, barred in place – shoulders heaving as water traced the edge of his jaw, dripping from his chin. A blue light shimmered over the elevator's panel; an audible gasp coming from the crowd on the other side of the doors as they locked tight after only opening a few inches.

"Malfunction Detected," flashed on the LED sign above you.

"I disagree." He turned to you, arm dropping to his side.

You took a step back, "What's gotten into you?"

His mouth cocked back in a half-smile, shaking his head as he looked to the ceiling. He pushed the flaps of his jacket aside, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"That…" He snickered, "Ah, that is ironic, coming from you."

"See, this is what I'm not in the mood for."

"Well it's not always all about you, is it?" His nose crinkled, holding a hand out and narrowing his eyes, "Do you honestly think that after everything that's happened today, that I'd be alright with just leaving you 'alone?'"

Your neck snaked backwards, and you swallowed.

"And allow me to inform you that it's been quite difficult for me to handle, thanks for asking."

You tried not to get claustrophobic and reminded yourself to breathe. You couldn't escape. You were trapped in there, in that small elevator, with him.

"I just want you to talk to me. Please…" A curled finger hooked under your chin, lifting it to his face, "I don't ask for much."

That did it. His plea cut through your glass like a laser-cutter during a heist, emotions storming through the breach to reclaim their lost territory.

"If you won't talk to me, perhaps I can get in contact with the person you spoke of earlier."

"Connor-"

"Although, after some hypothesizing, I must say that if it is in fact Detective Reed, you should know that he's quite impulsive and acts much differently than your previous observations."

"Connor…"

"And Lieutenant Anderson can hardly control his own emotions, much less support another struggling person, even if they are a friend. I'd recommend leaning on someone more stable in your time of need."

"Con-"

"And while Officer Miller is married and has his hands full with his wife and child, he is an exemplary police officer and partner. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you'd stop by, if you'd like me to arrange it."

"YOU!"

With a bat of an eye, he cocked his head, "What about me?"

"It's you." You gently pushed him back, sniffing as you choked down sadness, "I was talking…about you."

He frowned, brows creased as he looked away. His head toggled between left and right, his LED flaring bright yellow.

"It…It can't be me." He looked up to you in a panic, "It can't-"

"Why not?"

"Daniel. Then the HK400. I told them everything would be fine. That I wouldn't let anyone hurt them." His mouth quivered, "They're both dead. They trusted me, and I…I let them die."

He choked, "And I know what you said about monsters slaying monsters. I know they threatened human lives, including yours. But I still feel like…"

He mumbled under his breath as if working out the sentence in his head before choosing the right words.

"I can't let that happen to you, too." He placed a hand on your cheek.

It was cold and wonderful, a soothing chill that combated the heat that burned you alive.

"I'd never forgive myself if CyberLife…" His eyes were pained like someone was carving out his insides, "If they ordered me to kill you, you wouldn't be able to hide. I'd find you."

The truth was terrifying in the unexpected admission it'd been carried on. How he jumped from wanting to be with you, to pushing you off to someone else, to this. There was a much deeper issue running through the android who was slowly learning how to be human.

"Connor…listen to me."

He winced as you cupped both sides of his face, as if you'd moved too quickly and it'd frightened him. It made the aching clamp in your heart squeeze tighter.

"I can handle myself, okay? Nothing's going to happen to me. And if it does, it won't be your fault."

"You don't know that…" He didn't look at you.

His voice was low, barely over a whisper.

"Yes, I do." You corrected him as he tried to turn away, his eyes locking to yours, "We all have to embrace our dark side once in awhile to get things done. When Elijah was…upset…"

His jaw tensed under your palms.

"…I pried. Pretended I cared, pretended I was upset. Let him hug me. I gained his trust, and got what I needed." You caressed his cheek with your thumb, "We aren't different, you and I…Even if he's still alive, even if Chloe and the others aren't."

He was processing something. Batting it between each corner of his mind as he hesitated to answer, mauling over the pieces after he ripped it open and chewed on the salvage.

"I don't like the way he touched you."

The hint of danger in his eyes and the threat carried in his voice was unsettling, if not invigorating.

"When he asked me what I wanted…I wanted to kill him." His preying stare pushed closer, "I wanted to break his fingers one-by-one, and make him apologize for the things he's done to you."

The throbbing in your neck beat hard. Your arms had a light shake to them, your fingers gliding up to the back of his head where his hair graced your fingertips.

"What else do you want?"

The spark behind his abysmal gaze ignited like a match struck along a trail of gasoline. Unsureness rolled off his lips when his mouth opened and shut as if silently praying away a sin.

You knew what you wanted him to say, and what you wanted to hear.

"I want you."

And when he said it, he didn't leave any time to figure out if it'd been your imagination. Didn't leave you any reason to wonder.

His lips crashed into yours, the weight of his chest pinning your back to the wall. A surprised shout was muffled by his tongue filling your mouth as you tried to catch your breath. His fist tightened in your hair, pointing your face to the ceiling as his teeth grazed your neck.

"Connor-"

An angry pull had your jacket sliding off, dropped to pool around your feet where your hat had fallen at some point. It was somewhere. You hadn't noticed; couldn't pay attention to anything but the man exploring every inch of your long-since neglected body.

It was a nice change of pace, to be the focus of someone's lust instead of gun sights. You didn't mind your uniform being ripped open with fingers rather than bullet holes. Didn't mind your vest's straps being undone for the sake of pleasure, and not diagnosis. Could get used to having nothing but your thin undershirt and his clothes being the only thing between your bodies; maybe less, if you'd get lucky.

"And now I've got you…"

Darkness lingered on his tongue, his cool breath raising the hairs on the back of your neck. Darkness that snapped your eyes open, had you pushing against him, and flooding your dulled senses when he didn't budge.

A hard, cold point jabbed at the healing bruise on your stomach. Your gun. His gun, now.

"…right where I want you."


Philosophy Alert:
If you feel up to reading about paradigm shifts, I'd recommend it as I'll be referencing "The Structure of Scientific Revolutions" in the next few chapters.


Updates:

1. The first and second chapter of Deviant Behavior is now available in voiced narration by Kabibi AudioFics!

2. Turkish translation posted on AO3!

3. Deviant Behavior's outline is now complete, and will tentatively be 60 chapters long. Playlist has also been updated accordingly.

4. Leonixon was kind enough to create this Spotify List! There are some changes from the original playlist, as certain remixes weren't available. THANK YOU!

5. Special shout out to Cerulaine for recommending Natural, Secrets, and Dangerous. 3 Thank you for bringing these songs into my life, mah luv!

6. I've had so much fun in this discord chat. You guys are amazing.

7. THANK YOU BETAS!

8. SORRY READERS!


Guest Review Responses

MysticalSquirrel: It's okay! I'm really glad you liked Carl here, and thanks for that quote. HEH. I love it. There's definitely a foreboding bell, and it just rang loud and clear. *evil laugh* They make total sense! Don't worry, friend! Thanks again for the lovely read : )