November 9th, 2038

PM 02:17:23


A/N: I know I already mentioned some references before, but thought I'd go as far to share ALL of them. See at end of chapter for more Behind the Scenes information, and enjoy Chapter 45...

At your own risk.

;)


Courage didn't come easily as you approached the sheet-metal doors, housing Simon's body like a coffin at a public showing.

His LED was mute, save for the paced pulsing that indicated a peaceful slumber. The blue light illuminated the cramped space, washing Connor's face in deep shadows and pulling it back into darkness when it faded out. Tiny rings of reflection would highlight his pupils only for them to dim afterwards.

He hummed under his breath, "He must have gone into stasis mode as a means of self-preservation."

"Is he a threat?" Captain Allen asked from the opening.

"Not unless he wakes up unrestrained."

"Easiest problem we'll solve all day." Allen's helmet pointed at a pair of his squad mates, and he nodded at the opening, "Lastimosa - cuff it and put it downstairs with the rest of 'em."

"Yes, sir." The woman slung her rifle and hopped up, her boots shuttering the steel floor as they hit.

Hank shook his head, kicking at the snow with his arms crossed, "Leave him alone for two seconds and he pulls the entire SWAT team into some goddamn manhunt…"

"Aren't we all on a manhunt?" You sighed, painfully remembering your encounter with Markus; the woman he called North, and the other man who you had yet to identify.

"Yeah, for operational androids, not one that decided to take a nap."

"He is not 'taking a nap,' Lieutenant." Connor stepped out of Lastimosa's way, "He is preventing further damage to his systems by implementing a forced, temporary shutdown."

"Same shit, Connor."

"On the contrary."

Lastimosa rolled Simon on his stomach; the threading and click of circular teeth leading the electronic hum of her magnetized pair of cuffs. Her boots disappeared under a layer of snow as she jumped down, and she leaned inside to drag the carcass towards her.

"Specialist Lastimosa, may I be of assistance?" Connor offered.

"Nope. Got it covered."

"Are you positive-"

She hoisted the body over her shoulder, taking a step back to distribute the weight.

Hank uncrossed his arms, mouth dropping, "What the fuck?"

"Cybernetic limbs." She adjusted the corpse, and started towards the rooftop access door, "What, you think CyberLife just makes imitation humans and we don't get to reap the benefits of neural meshes and replacement limbs?"

"Uh…" You remembered a few scientists talking about the possibilities during your time in the "Tower," but it fell by the wayside to nanotechnology, "Sure?"

"Tch, listen…" She huffed, "Don't ever get your arm blown off."

She disappeared behind the door leading to the staircase. The small group of you turned to Allen for an explanation.

"Prosthetic right arm, new pair of knees, and a metal spine to support it all." He grunted, "Blown out of a tank and sent home after being medically discharged. Nanotech in her blood stream regulates everything, if I remember correctly."

"Fucking cyborgs…" Hank ran a hand down his face, "Because why the fuck not?"

"Hey, don't let her catch you calling her that. She hates it." Allen took his helmet off, latching it to his hip, "Wouldn't want to piss off a Specialist with a metal arm and a bad temper, would you?"

"What about pissing off a Lieutenant with a drinking problem and a bad temper?" You smirked.

"I wouldn't consider it a problem." Hank threw a middle finger over his shoulder as they walked away, "More like the byproduct of having to deal with you all fuckin' day."

"At least you admit you have a bad temper." You went to follow, but a familiar declaration kept you in place.

"Officer."

Connor was standing right behind you with a pained expression of disappointment. He subtly tossed his eyes left and right; and flipped up his jacket to reach under a flap.

"Your gun." He gave you a crooked frown under the whisper, the strands of his loose batch of hairs dangling.

You received it shakily, swallowing hard. The locking holster clicked in place, securing your long-lost friend that'd almost charged you a bullet fee.

"Thanks…"

You missed the days of stumbling in the bathroom at the Ortiz crime scene, dropping a camera while Connor spouted some crazy robot shit about your heart rate.

"My, how times have changed…"

You leaned over the table, frowning at a face you'd been conditioned to fear. A blond head of hair over blue eyes and pale skin.

A PL600 android, serial #501 743 923. Designate, Simon: Reported missing February 16, 2036.

"He isn't Daniel."

You had to repeat it a dozen times until you finally convinced yourself it was true.

"What, now?" Hank asked.

"Well…we could reactivate him, and see what he has to say…" You sucked in your cheek, watching him sleep, "I doubt they have extra parts around here…Although, we have a stock at the station."

"I'd be cautious about activating it outside of a contained environment." Captain Allen's brow was stuck in a permanent pinch, "It clearly didn't plan on getting apprehended."

Hank snickered, "Great. Just another android to babysit."

"As I previously stated, I don't believe this mode of stasis was voluntary." Connor leaned closer, "I suspect it went into low power mode in order to preserve itself. It's lost a lot of Thirium."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time, Sherlock." Allen rubbed his winter-bitten, reddened nose, "It's like a coma, right?"

"…Correct." Connor returned a flat look, "Have you previously experienced this phenomenon occurring in androids?"

"Once or twice, while I was enlisted…Whatever the case, it's your problem now." Allen started towards the door, knocking on the frame, "Let me know if you need a gun pointed at something."

He answered the question swiftly, and his exit was even quicker like he didn't want to talk about it anymore. The deflection was odd for the Captain that seemed to thrive off conflict, and the watchful stares of the rest of your group indicated they thought it was strange, too. But even if the rest of them hadn't got the hint, a loud bang made everyone jump.

"Goddamn it-" Gavin kicked the vending machine along the farthest wall, holding the sides as if it was going to run away, "Fucking thing took my payment and didn't give me my chips."

"You try actual money, genius?" Hank sucked his teeth.

"No…" Gavin turned his head, "Ben, give me a dollar."

"Excuse me?" Collins had almost passed through the doorway, but leaned back in, "First of all, who carries cash anymore-"

"You, because you're old."

"-Second, why don't you try asking nicely?"

"Whatever." Gavin snorted, rubbing his nose, "Connor, I'm 25 cents short. Lemme borrow that quarter of yours."

Your brows furrowed, and you opened your mouth in protest.

"Lieutenant Anderson removed it from my possession in the elevator." A tinge of snark hung on his accusation, "Perhaps you should ask him for monetary assistance."

"Are you pulling your 'I only take orders from Lieutenant Anderson,' bullshit again?" He mocked his voice in the quote, almost crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out before he leveled.

"…No, I'm informing you I do not have a quarter any longer, Detective Reed."

"Jesus-" Chris marched across the room, pulling his wallet out, "I need to get out of here."

"Thanks, Miller." Gavin slapped his shoulder a little too hard as he loaded the vending machine.

Chris jerked forward, shooting him an irritated glance, "Yeah. Sure."

While the two bickered, you twisted towards Hank, whispering furiously, "You took his quarter?"

You'd noticed Connor's hands fidgeting more than usual. How his ticks were unrestrained, and how the restlessness transferred over.

"What?" Hank held his hands out, "All that flippy shit was getting annoying. You're not the one that has to work with him!"

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes.

"Don't give me that look."

You raised your brows, cocking your chin. Wondered if you'd have to start tapping your foot.

"Okay, fine. Fuck." Hank pulled the quarter out of his pocket, "Catch."

He flipped it with his thumb. Connor's focus trailed it, a small smile lifting his lips. A hand shot out of his jean pocket, and he caught it between his middle and index fingers.

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Don't thank me, thank her."

And with a heart-throbbing wink, he did.

"Gross." Gavin popped a chip in his mouth, nodding at the door, "Come on, ass clowns. I'm tired of bein' here and I still have drug slingers to chase down."

"Says the guy eating at a crime scene…" Collins muttered, following him out.

"Right?" Chris tailed behind them.

"What?" Gavin's voice was farther now, "I'm hungry."

You watched them leave, shaking your head and turning back to Connor and Hank once it was just the three of you. But Connor stepped back, leveling his eyes with the three androids watching…and just…

Staring.

The triplets – the broadcast operators.

How anyone could work with a batch of three, identical androids in one room was beyond you. It was unsettling and everything about them just felt unnatural.

Connor's brow furrowed as he studied them; lined up like school children on time out. You wondered what he was so fixated on, or if they were making him just as uncomfortable.

"Didn't expect you to tag SWAT in." Hank interrupted his trance, and Connor put a casual mask on as he flipped his coin between his knuckles.

"Captain Allen was very helpful." Connor watched the quarter as he made it dance, "Once I told him there was a potential threat, he asked pertinent questions and responded accordingly."

"He's a SWAT Captain, what did you expect?"

"Captain Allen was very...apprehensive, when I first met him in August. It appears our relationship has improved."

"Yeah, or…ORand hear me out," Hank landed a hand on his shoulder and gave him an affectionate shake, "Maybe it's just because this situation is a tad bit less stressful than a little girl being held at gunpoint off the ledge of a high-rise."

"…Perhaps." Connor mumbled.

Hank grinned and pressed two fingertips to his temple, cocking them towards the both of you as he made his way out of the kitchen, "I'm with Reed, I'm tired of being here…You two let me know if you need anything." He paused in the doorframe, turning to you, "And try not to get hurt again?"

You snorted, rolling your eyes, "Yep."

The slightest bit of movement from one of the androids caught your attention from the corner of your vision. When you looked, you didn't see anything out of place. They were all standing there, breathing in unison, their chests rising and falling in the same pattern.

You hadn't noticed Connor staring one of them down – the one you thought you saw move. He had that look on his face. The combination of suspicion, frustration, and contemplation.

He saw it, too…but there was something else on your mind.

"Are we going to talk about what happened up there?"

"We're going to talk about a lot of things." Connor didn't look at you as he put his quarter away, still focused on the androids, "But I'm going to deal with you when we get home."

Your neck snaked back at the unexpected hostility; your mind pinned between embarrassment and that plummeting feeling you got when you were being reprimanded with good reason.

"I watched the footage on the cameras…" He noted, "It's my understanding that Markus and his band of deviant helpers didn't break in."

You pushed your frustrations aside, flipping through the touchscreen of your data pad resting next to Simon…an android that was sure to cause a scene, but somehow didn't. You leaned closer, noticing new details you hadn't been given the luxury to study.

The deactivated skin on his arm, like he'd been shut down in the middle of the process. A small leak coming from the base of his skull where part #3982v was located – a critical biocomponent that supplied power to the Mind Palace. The regulator for the "brain."

"No, no sign of forced entry." You answered, eyes drifting to Connor's hands; clasped behind his back.

His fingers were stained blue.

"There are cameras in the hallway…" He turned on his heel, proceeding down the line, "The staff would have seen what was happening."

One of his jacket pockets had a slight bulge to them…just small enough to contour the outline of the missing part.

"Why did they let them in, you think?"

"Maybe they didn't check the cameras…" You gave the most default answer you could muster, trying to sound convincing nonetheless, "I don't know."

You also didn't know what would provoke him to tamper with Simon's biocomponent configuration. You had half a mind to ask him, but then he stopped his examination.

His chin curved to the side, starting at the android on the left and analyzing each one of them with a measured, lethal sweep. The LED on his temple blinked wrathfully, a solid blue flashing on par with each notch carved in his eyes like he was tallying the victims before they'd succumbed to defeat.

His usual warmth was sucked in by its own black hole of foreboding presence. And while the androids remained in formation, guarding themselves with forwardly-folded hands; Connor stood in front of them, shoulders square and strong – his spine aligning with his overbearing height like a deadly constellation.

"Andromeda. Named after the daughter of Cassiopeia, who was chained to a rock to be eaten by a sea monster."

The three operators were chained, and the shark in front of them was ready to snap his fangs just like he'd practiced so many times before. Except these androids were no maidens in distress; they were duplicates of the same vessel who studied their environment with exactness like watch dogs.

You followed the trail left by Connor's previous line of questioning. The series of indirect statements with you was a presentation of evidence for the machines at risk of being compromised. Your answers had sealed their fate…and opened the gates of Hades.

There would be no convincing of Connor's abilities, this time. No twelve labors to be carried out to prove himself worthy. No asking for permission or gaining of trust…for the shark had sprouted legs; planted his feet firmly and unexpectedly – rooted at the center of the three heads of Cerberus.

"Árbol de la muerte."

An archeologist in Guadalajara retold horror stories of the "tree of death" when you and Elijah had visited an artificial intelligence seminar in Mexico. Professor Álvarez, a woman who'd relocated from Madrid. You'd shared drinks with her in the lounge instead of accompanying your husband in the lecture hall – an event put together just for him.

She'd described the jungles on the outskirts of Mayan ruins and acropolises, and the legends of Conquistadors' close encounters with the manzanilla trees; manchineel, in English. An organic form of life that bore fruit with oozing sap so toxic it left blisters on Spanish skin when the conquerors of old stood under its canopy after it began to rain.

They'd been exploring, naturally. Weren't paying attention. Had got caught up in their crusade and decided to take shelter under one of the most dangerous trees in the world.

Their screams attracted the attention of the natives, and they were struck down with arrows coated in the same poison that contaminated the rain water that burned their flesh.

And if these androids' minds were uncharted territory – an untouched jungle that provided dangerous shelter for those weary and lost; Connor – toxic to the touch with venomous skin, was about to lead the expedition.

"What is your function?" The question to the android in the middle came like a branch held back, released to thwack the inferior being branded by CyberLife.

"I am a broadcast operator." He…it, responded coolly.

Mechanically.

"State your model." Connor continued to thin the brush, hacking at the leftmost android's composure with a sharpened tongue for a blade.

It was almost a challenge. There was something in the way he said it, as if wordlessly reminding them that he was an RK800; the most advanced Detective-android prototype, and they were mere tools. That he was the tree, the android, to blend in with the rest while being one of the most dangerous in the world.

The pathfinder.

"Model JB300, serial number 336 445 581."

Connor wasn't satisfied with the answer.

A storm cell released an electric charge as it began to brew, hovering over his caustic crown.

"Run a diagnostic."

He paced down the line, blocking the light from the android with his stature – homing in on the fluttering eyelids and static flurries for eyes as it did what it was told.

"All systems fully operational."

A huff left Connor's nose as he turned – sights never leaving the machines lined up like a warden to disobedient dogs locked away in a mental kennel. He stopped at the android closest to the door.

"Were you present when the deviants broke in?"

"I do not remember." This one was quicker to answer.

You noticed, and doubted Connor hadn't.

"Interesting…" He cocked his chin, "Has anybody accessed your memory recently?"

He definitely noticed.

"Not to my knowledge."

Connor scraped his bottom lip with his teeth, letting it go before nodding to himself, "Have you been in contact with any other androids recently?"

The one that'd been quick to respond hesitated. Exposed a moment of weakness, flashed through a lapse in time.

"Only station androids in the normal course of my function."

A tense hush fell over the kitchen. Connor took on a barely-recognizable posture; one that no longer bled strength in the form of corrosive nature – but anger. He turned, a hard line for a mouth pointing at you before the steps of his shoes boomed in the pin-drop silence.

"Yes…How could I forget your function?" He was speaking to the android, but he looked at you with a fermented version of the disdain he'd displayed on the roof, "To operate and monitor the broadcast controls of the Stratford Tower…Correct?"

He looked to his side, back at the android. Let his hands fall to his sides in a stiff, tremorless, controlled motion that only an android could do.

"Yes."

Connor smirked, closing his eyes at the floor, "That's where you and I aren't so different."

The silk of his tie bunched and straightened like a rolling wave chased by his death grip.

"You see," He took a breath of carbon dioxide, shuddering as he exhaled a gust of new oxygen, "You were programmed with a specific task…"

A fuming tug forced a tight knot under his neck, and his eyes snapped open.

"…But so was I."

His was one more complex. More classically conditioned.

To be above curiosity; starved of knowledge and trained to salivate at the dinner bell serving it…

And the warning bells of an inquisition tolled.


Behind the Scenes

(Links on AO3)


Chapter 42: Unsung Hero

Three Laws of Thermodynamics

(Thanks for helping so much, Matt!)

Maxwell's Demon Experiment

Murphy's Law

Titanfall Quote Used from Blisk's Teaser Trailer

Alibi from Rainbow 6: Siege Quote Used

Chapter 43: Quantic Dream

Quantic Dream

(Developer of Detroit: Become Human)

Quantico Marine Corps Base

Quantum Mechanics

Chaos Theory

Nonlinear Systems

G.I. Android (Detroit Today)

Detroit: Become Human Flowchart Mechanics:

"So many timelines you wanted to skip through, tweaking decisions and letting loose the effects to ripple through and play themselves out."

Chapter 44: Schrödinger's Cat

(See quantum-based references above)

Schrödinger's Cat Thought Experiment

(Also mentioned by Chloe in Detroit: Become Human)

Chapter 45: Pavlov's Dog

Liera Lastimosa from "Of Steel and Stardust"

The First Immortals Are Among Us (Tech Addict)

Gavin Chip Scene Inspired by Chapter 8 of Cerulaine's "Captcha Encryption"

Simon's Part Number from "Last Chance, Connor" Mission

Andromeda Constellation

(The use of Andromeda and Pathfinder was a nod to Mass Effect: Andromeda)

Cerberus

(Goddamn it Cherish why did you enable me further-)

Labors of Heracles

Elena Álvarez from Rainbow 6: Siege

Mexico Among Top 25 Countries for Artificial Intelligence Article

Artificial Intelligence Academy in Guadalajara, Mexico Article

Manchineel Trees

Manchineel Trees and Rain Article

Conquistadors

Conquistadors and Manchineel Trees Article

Classical Conditioning

Pavlov's Dog Experiment

Chapter Written to "Forest Swords" from the Assassin's Creed: Rogue OST


A/N II: A TON of stuff got added to the Deviant Behavior Showcase. If you check it out, leave the contributors some love!


Guest Review Responses:

Thank you guys so much. I can't really tell who is who or if you're all the same person but either way, I'm glad you're enjoying everything!

MysticalSquirrel: I hope all is well my friend!