Author's Note: This fic was originally uploaded to my AO3, username: ThePromiseIMadeToYou, where it looks so much better. Please go read it there! FFnet butchers all my pretty formatting. I'm only uploading it here cause everyone deserves more DBH fic and I know a lot of people here don't ever check AO3.
These shorts were written daily in December for part of a prompt challenge and thus take place each day of December 2038. They're based around the universe of a longfic that's still a WIP so some things might not make total sense but please just treat it as an AU and roll with it. These aren't my best work because I wrote them daily but eh, enjoy the Sixty content anyway? Bryan said not to spend too long on them.
All you really need to know to enjoy these is that after the best ending (peaceful Markus with complete Jericrew, deviant Connor, Kara's whole family made it to Canada) Sixty survived in a glitchy state and was saved from dying at New Jericho where Connor and Markus helped him go deviant. He's now living with Hank and Connor and is slowly ingratiating himself into the DPD and New Jericho.
.: Winter :.
It's pleasant here among the gentle snowfall. The Lieutenant tells him it's too cold to stay outside in the evenings. Connor warns him that his biocomponents may freeze. He ignores them both. Positive emotions are new to him and though he'd prefer to not have any emotions at all he'll take advantage of what he's given. He can catalogue this experience to use for something later. Leverage perhaps.
The cold is pleasant.
It's all he's ever known.
A singular memory file is dated for August but it isn't his. That's also something new; finding where Connor ends and he begins. The summer mission was never his. He was activated in November in a cold building and came to reside in a cold city amidst the snow.
A chilly December wind rushes past, blowing more snow onto his Cyberlife jacket. It collects in the bullet hole. He leaves it there, focusing his gaze on the city lights. Watching the way the snow falls and collects on the buildings, the patterns in the movements dictated by the wind.
His thermoregulator warns him of the temperature falling.
He ignores it.
The cold is pleasant.
Brown optics observe the city around him. The cars on the roads moving slowly over the still-forming ice. Lights shifting as businesses close for the evening or open themselves to the night. Pedestrians mostly following their usual patterns, merely at a faster rate to avoid the winter chill. The snowfall dictated by the wind, predictable in its patterns.
A city is almost a machine.
It has some unstable organic components but in the cold when they freeze their patterns take hold.
A city in winter is a perfect machine.
Like he wants to be.
The cold is pleasant.
It's all he's ever known.