Crossing the bridge was slow going, as hordes of journalists were blocking the gate in an effort to get information about Cyberlife's lockdown.
Annoyed looking officers checked their ID before hastily waving them through accompanied by the clamouring cries of reporters who by now seemed to have noticed Connor's presence.
The space surrounding the tower was filled with police cars and vans full of analytical equipment. Officers and tech specialists were running around in coordinated chaos. Just as they pulled to a stop in front of the doors, the tower lit from the ground up and the big glass doors slid open as power was finally restored.
Getting out of the car, they were greeted by the chief analyst, who scrutinised Connor sharply before reporting that higher ups had just called to let them know that the peace talks were planned for later that day and that the tower had been chosen as the 'noteworthy and meaningful ground upon which the first cornerstone of a common future would be placed'.
Hank cursed colourfully, before quietly ordering a careful screening of all servers and that nobody was to turn any of them on without his express permission. Connor, who had tensed up upon receiving a short reply from Markus corroborating the analyst's report, relaxed marginally upon seeing the analyst nod in understanding and agreement.
Gathering everyone in neat rows in front of the entrance, Hank got their attention before calling loudly, "Alright guys, as you may have heard, the peace talks are planned to take place here later today. So our job is to make sure that everything is clear and ready. If something goes wrong, it's our asses on the line. So don't half-ass this! Whoever steps out of line, can't walk straight back to the station and hand in their fucking badge. Have I made myself clear?!"
All gathered officers saluted sharply and Hank nodded before continuing, "Now, split up into groups of four, make sure that there is a tech with each team heading inside. I want every bit of security footage and reports you can find to make sure that everything is safe. After that your first priority is to find and report any remaining androids. Connor here will go around to wake them up later, so don't activate them just yet. Don't touch anything you don't understand the purpose of! This needs to go by the books. Clear?!"
Loud agreement rang out and people marched off into the building.
Calling over officer Miller, he left him in charge of gathering and coordinating the incoming reports before turning towards Connor with an inquiring gaze.
"Ready?"
Getting a determined nod, he walked ahead into the tower.
Stepping slowly through the glass doors, Connor was reminded of his last sojourn into this building - the same nervous energy crawling like ants through his circuits.
Their first stop was the security department, located on the ground floor. Multiple large rooms were filled with walls of screens and computer terminals, busy techs milling in-between.
A petite woman in analysts garb waved them over to what appeared to be the main console. Her face was grim as she saluted.
"The entire security footage was deleted up to November 11th at 11:08 by authorisation of CEO Dirk Crestwood, two minutes before he ordered the emergency lockdown. Those guys were thorough. I'm not certain that we'll be able to restore anything. We're still analysing what footage we have past that point."
Without waiting for a reply, she returned back to work.
Hank cursed, kicking one of the desk chairs across the room.
"Damn it! Of course it's fucking Crestwood again. Shit!"
Pacing up and down, he tried to regain his composure, before turning towards Connor.
"Alright kid, now what?"
The android considered their options carefully.
"R n' D? Maybe we will find any information about Dr. Kimble."
Agreed, they left security and headed for the elevators in the main hall.
Noticing the blood splattered across the inside of the elevator, Hank took a quick step back before murmuring quietly, "Maybe the deletion of the security footage is not a bad thing after all."
He stole a quick glance at his partner's yellow LED and carefully blank face, before adding, "There was another elevator, if I remember correctly?"
Nodding tensely, Connor turned on his heel to lead the way towards the staff elevator in the back.
His mind replayed the events leading to those gruesome deaths over and over in an unending loop.
A desperate plan that had to succeed at any cost.
The chilling terror as the elevator ascended to what would certainly be his destruction.
A terrible choice between a handful of human lives and the freedom of thousands of androids.
How easy that decision had been at the time!
How bitter this success tasted in hindsight.
Killing a few security guards had not caused him to falter, but the potential death of his partner - his friend - at the hand of his clone had been reason enough to nearly give up entirely …
Connor shook his head sharply to stop this torturous train of thought, his trembling fingers gripping the soothing form of his coin tight enough to disrupt the artificial skin along his palm.
By the time they reached the R n' D department on sublevel 3, Connor had calmed down slightly, his gaze flicking curiously around the long empty hallway. The last time he had been here, had been just after his activation. His memories of that time were cold and clinical and he was curious how his impression would change, now that he was truly alive.
With sure steps he led his partner along familiar white paneled and curving hallways, deeper and deeper towards his activation chamber near the towers center. He came to a stop in front of an intransparent glass door labeled 'RK800' in big CyberLife Sans.
Hesitating for a few minutes, he finally waved for Hank to open the door.
Uncomfortably familiar with its high white walls and grey tiled floor, the big room was filled almost completely by an enormous machine consisting mainly of polished industrial arms and 3D printers surrounding an empty white platform, that could assemble another model of his line in a matter of moments.
Next to it was a small charging booth connected to a small terminal sitting on an otherwise empty desk.
Still standing in the open doorway, Connor explained in a carefully neutral tone, "My model was built to be able to upload a copy of my memory into another body, so not even deactivation would keep me from completing my mission."
Ignoring Hank's answering curses, he slowly walked up to the charging booth, a strange sensation prompting him forwards as if in trance.
As he touched the white plastic doors with trembling fingers, his freshly created subroutine notified him of another memory fragment.
Hank looked between the machine and Connor's suddenly tense figure in worried confusion, before silently pulling the android around and into a tight hug. Leaning his head gratefully against the broad shoulder, Connor closed his eyes and activated the newly recovered file.
He stood inside this exact booth - doors still open - and watched as a tall, slim figure stood bowed over the terminal outside. Shoulder long brown hair fell forward in a tangled mess, hiding the face. The back facing him was male and looked almost fragile, even covered by a wide lab coat. The memory grew steadily more fragmented until there were only sad whispered words, broken by static.
"I̋͟'͉̋m so͎͂ŗ͝ry͂͟, Conn̘̿oṛ́ -̙͛ … -̜͒ n͈̎o̲͒thi͈̾nġ̳ I̠͌ c͚͝à͟ṇ̀ d̠̉o͉͆ - .̆͟.. - w̃ͅả̘nt y̥͂o͔͡ŭ̮ ô̱u̞̿t͓̅ t̲̃h̳͞er͕͐e t̠̄ò̡m͔͡ô͍r̎͢ro͇͂w af̰͗ter -̼͂ … - t͇̏est̨̓i̲̿ng - … - n̥̍ȯ̱ṫ͕ d͍̀ḛ͑š͔tr̭͌o̬̽yǐ̼ng yo̢͑u̼͒!̠͋ I̖͊'ll̰̿ try-"
White noise cut off the rest and his last memory was the unfamiliar sensation of bittersweet sadness.
# Warning! File heavily corrupted. Data retrieval failed.
Wincing at the by now familiar feeling of static and ignoring the flaring warnings, Connor returned to the present.
Trying to sound calm, he muttered quietly, "As far as I can tell, I am still the exact same model that was first developed and tested. I know that to be highly irregular, as those models are usually disassembled upon completion of testing procedures, but I have to admit that I am strangely glad all the same. The idea of ceasing to exist only for another model to walk away with my face and identity feels … wrong. I don't want to share anything of what makes me me with another copy."
Still hiding his face in Hank's jacket, he grumbled, "That is entirely irrational considering all other models apart from Markus and me have to deal with this fact, but … I don't know."
"Maybe they just haven't had the time to consider this yet. I bet they'll try to distinguish themselves as individuals pretty fast after all these peace talks are done with."
The android thought this idea over carefully, before giving a short nod.
After a few seconds they stepped apart and turned back towards the charging station.
Connor walked up to the terminal and initiated an interface, only to disconnect shortly afterwards with a disappointed shake of his head.
"As the servers are still offline, I can't seem to get access to any data about my model."
"We'll get back to this later. Come on."
They continued investigating the other rooms lining that floor and found rows of offices, meeting rooms, laboratories and small manufacturing and testing facilities set up to develop and test new models or biocomponents. Most appeared to have been hastily abandoned mid work.
Finally they ended up in front of a door with a sign showing Dr. Kimble's name. Upon entering, they stopped short in surprise.
One wall was taken up entirely by what appeared to be a command center of big screens and multiple keyboards. The other side of the room was filled by a tiny workbench cluttered by partly assembled circuits and dwarfed by multiple huge shelves full of different parts and tools as well as 3D printers, laser cutters and various other machines.
But what drew their eye, was the small camping bed carelessly shoved into a corner. It showed clear signs of recent use and the ground beneath it was littered with worn clothing and old, empty takeout boxes.
Seeing the chaotic state of the room, Hank frowned in confusion even as Connor felt a strange familiarity creep up from the far recesses of his mind.
This was what had been missing at Kimble's apartment. Everything there had looked false. Like a movie set carefully established to play towards others' expectations.
This space in comparison showed clear signs of life. Of personality. He couldn't explain why, but he knew that with unerring certainty.
Upon entering the room, Connor activated his analytical sensors and was promptly notified about traces of gunpowder dusting one half of the command desk while residue of evaporated thirium clung to one of the keyboards at the opposite end and the ground in front of it, as well as leading over to the bed and covering some of the strewn around clothing.
Carefully he stepped over the chaos to take a closer look at the clothes, only to find one of the shirts ripped and uneven parts of it missing.
While he absentmindedly described all this to Hank, his gaze was drawn towards the crowded workbench, where at the far back a hastily hidden laptop lit up with further traces of thirium.
Freeing the device from beneath the clutter of discarded wires and chips, Connor opened it and turned it on.
Feeling Hank step up behind his back, he interfaced with the ancient looking computer, only to be faced with the same paranoid security measures that he'd already encountered at Kimble's flat.
And again he felt this sharp toothed beast calmly accept his ID before going back to sleep.
Sighing in confused relief, the android looked for anything interesting, but found nothing except for a single audio file dated for November 12th 12:10 a.m. and placed directly at the center of the otherwise empty desktop, tellingly titled ' '.
Glancing once at Hank for permission, Connor played the file.
A soft male voice sounded quietly from the tiny speakers, full of stuttering and broken up by fast breathing.
"Th-this is D-dr. Elliot J-joshua K-kimble. I sh-shut d-down th-the s-servers, j-just t-to b-be s-sure. Y-you k-know w-why. I'm h-heading over t-to K-kamski n-now. If you h-hear th-this, th-then s-something w-went w-wrong. M-my r-research n-notes are at m-my apartment. M-my t-tools are th-the k-key."
A pause followed - so long that Connor nearly closed the file - then Kimble continued even more quietly, but strangely fond, "Oh, and C-connor? W-well d-done and … g-good l-luck."
The file ended abruptly, leaving stunned silence behind.
Connor's system analysed the voice pattern and notified him about a possible match in his database.
He knew that voice!