This is a fanfic which follows the Deviant Connor timeline (with the everybody lives ending/the happy ending) from the video game Detroit Become Human. Some things were changed/added to allow the fanfic to make more sense. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Sorry it took a few days to upload this chapter. Also, apologies if Connor is a little of character here.

TW: Mentions of self-harm and suggested alcoholism. Please do not be afraid to reach out to someone if you're struggling!

November 5th, 2038

PM 11:06

"Where in Detroit could the lieutenant be?!" Connor pondered as he left the fourth bar. This wasn't going well. For the past half an hour, the android had been trying to find this Lieutenant Hank Anderson that Amanda had told him about a few days prior. "He'll probably be in a bar," A police officer had told Connor when he went to check the station for the lieutenant to alert him of a homicide they had been called to investigate.

What if Connor couldn't find him? Would Amanda deem him unfit to investigate the case? What if they destroyed him? Connor thought of those burns he had inflicted upon himself four days ago, remembered how alert he was afterwards…Perhaps he could- No, his objective was to find the lieutenant. He could deal with his own faults later. Plus, it wasn't a good habit to start. And if people found out they'd probably think he'd deviated. Yeah, the other day was just a one-off. He probably didn't need to do that. "Just focus on the present, Connor. Find Lieutenant Anderson." He accessed a map of bars in Detroit. The closest one was Jimmy's Bar, which, luckily, was still open. Maybe he'd find the lieutenant there…

'Jimmy's bar' was printed onto the window in a curved arch, similar to the business name sign nailed to the door. Along with that sign, there were two others stuck on, disallowing androids and dogs from the property. Connor flicked his coin a couple of times, straightened his tie, and entered the bar, completely ignoring the "NO ANDROIDS ALLOWED" sticker.

Heads turned and for a moment people stared at the android spitefully before getting back to their drinks and conversations. As Connor strolled through the bar, he analysed faces, glanced up at the basketball game on the screen and ignored the protestations and mutterings of humans who clearly didn't enjoy his presence in the room.

Finally, he found the lieutenant sitting at the bar, staring down at his alcohol as if it were the only thing that existed. It was at that moment that Connor realised that he was the hung-over detective he had seen in the police station previously. From analysing the behaviour the android had seen then and now, he detected a high probability that this conversation wouldn't go well.

"Lieutenant Anderson, my name is Connor. I'm the android sent by Cyberlife." Connor described the troubles he had encountered while trying to locate him only to be struck by a dejected, monotone response of "What do you want?" Though slightly taken aback by this, the deviant hunter went on to explain the details of the case they'd been assigned. "-In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators."

"Well, I don't need any assistance. 'Specially not from a plastic asshole like you." He barely even looked at Connor as he said this. "So just be a good lil' robot and get the fuck outta here."

"Well, this certainly isn't going to plan," Connor thought, "Maybe if I appeared more understanding, he'd take a liking to me and come to the crime scene."

Connor made a remark on how the lieutenant may of, understandably, been uncomfortable, however, this only led to him responding almost belligerently. The android then tried to reason with him. Not even a reply that time. Lieutenant Anderson just drank more.

"Oh god, what if I can't get him to come with me? What will Cyberlife say? I'm failing. What should I do?! I could buy him another drink I suppose. Although, I don't want to be responsible if he gets drunk. Maybe I could spill his glass? No, hostility won't work here. But I could also wait outside. It would give me time to get back into a more focused mindset by- No! I must appear approachable."

"I'll buy you one for the road," Connor said in a friendly manner. Hank's grim expression hardly changed but he did allow him to buy the drink.

Hank's opinion of Connor (Up)

After necking it down, the Lieutenant answered with, "Did you say homicide?" almost smiling at Connor.

Hank Anderson's choice of music to listen to while driving was…interesting. Although, as the RK800 thought about it more, perhaps it wasn't so surprising that the detective listened to so much heavy metal. Regardless of the genre, Connor thought it was decent. As they passed through the streets of Detroit, listening to the third rock song in a row, he decided to bring up Hank's drinking habits. "I understand that you seem to be fond of alcohol, Lieutenant. I must know, is this going to stall any of our investigations?

"Drinking is what I do in my free-time. Takes my mind off shit. Anyway, I already told you, I don't need a tin can man for a partner."

"I'm afraid my position in this case is out of both of our hands. This is my mission as well as yours."

He rolled his eyes but accepted the android's answer. Connor knew he should enquire more so that he knew how to work with the man, although, based on his body language, Hank didn't seem to be in a talkative mood, so he instead focused on something else that was on his mind. Twice in the past hour, he had thought of hurting himself again; When he couldn't find Lieutenant Anderson and when he didn't think he'd come with him. Why? It was just one injury. He didn't need this. He wasn't a deviant!

"Hey Connor, whys your LED thing flashing yellow?" Hank questioned when they stopped at a traffic light. Not wanting to say too much, the deviant hunter vaguely replied, "Oh, I was attempting to reach a conclusion on a specific topic. Flashing yellow often indicates information processing or strain with an android who is not a deviant."

"I see. They really went all out when they were designing you machines, didn't they?" he muttered, clearly trying not to sound impressed.

Lieutenant Anderson was in his element. Although he seemed unenthusiastic to be there, once he was in the house, Hank got down to business (despite the atrocious smell of Carlos Ortiz's rotting corpse).

Connor had followed close behind, much to his annoyance though. "What part of 'stay in the car' didn't you understand?" he'd asked. Of course, Connor couldn't fully explain how much he needed this mission to be successful, especially in the middle of a crime scene, but the blunt truth was that Connor was hoping that this potential success would quell his fears of failure and, in extension, the concern that he may be at risk of falling down a self-harm rabbit hole. But instead, he just explained to the lieutenant that there had been contradicting orders.

When he moved on to finding evidence, the first things the android analysed were some red ice, dried blood, fingerprints, and the victim's body which had a spine-chilling 28 stab wounds in it. Observing the scene, Connor soon spotted the weapon that the android used to kill Carlos with. He kneeled down to sample the evidence by putting the blood in his mouth, encouraging a disgusted reaction from Hank. As he looked up, the RK800 swore he saw the glint of metal shining on a table nearby. After he finished a somewhat awkward discussion with the lieutenant, concerning his method of sample analysis, Connor decided to take a closer look.

Upon closer inspection, he realised it was not evidence at all. Of all things to be left there, it had to be a clean, shiny razor blade. If Connor could feel emotions as authentically as a human or a deviant did, he knew his stomach would do a flip from the discomfort this brought him. Razor blades are commonly used in cases of self-inflicted cutting, his mechanical mind told him. Should he take it? Connor remembered what he thought about the matter the first time he did it: A personal method of punishment, should I fail or nearly fail in any of my missions.

"But it's not as though I have any privacy to use it right now! What would the harm be in taking it?" The other part of his mind contradicted. He wasn't a deviant. He could function. He was ok. He wouldn't use it. At least, that's what Connor told himself as he slipped the blade into his jacket pocket, unaware that at that moment Hank was glancing in his new partner's direction. "What the hell is that android doing, pocketing a razor blade?" He thought, before trying to shake that from his mind and continue to investigate. He'd ask later.