Chapter 12: The Rogue
A stuffy, black sack enclosed his head. His recalibrations continued to count down, but he'd already been shocked twice more when the timer dipped under two minutes. Connor could only wait and endure, the disorientation glitching any chances of scanning his surroundings or escaping.
He wasn't sure where his advanced model was taking them. All he could gather was that they were in some sort of van, driving around. He kept track of time, his ears listening for any clues while he waited for his systems to recover.
After the passage of 61 minutes and 33 seconds, the vehicle stopped. The van door slid open, and Connor felt the RK900 grab his arm and tug him out. The driver and passenger door opened also, telling Connor the van was not driverless. Still inflicted with shock, he couldn't gather much about his surroundings with the sack over his head.
He could hear a lot of traffic, the familiar, continuous rush of buzzing motors nearby. It had to be the interstate, but he couldn't gather which one or which area of Detroit they were in.
The noise of outside was shut out, the shine of the sun dowsed. Connor knew he was in a building now. The RK900 kept a hold of one arm and his back, guiding him along, his hold tight. They walked through several rooms and took a case of concrete stairs until the sack was suddenly pulled from his head.
Connor immediately looked around, ignoring the errors within his sights from the shock. They were in a wide hallway with several rooms and open doors on each side. The floor tile was crumbled and dirty, trash strewn about. The ceiling had holes with exposed wires and beams, the insets hanging or laying around on the floor. Paint peeled on the wall, old and weathered posters curled from exposure.
As they stepped by the rooms, Connor looked in. Broken windows allowed a decent breeze through, and graffiti stained the walls. Old school desks sat forgotten in rows in each room.
[Abandoned school]
Connor wondered if this was Rett's hideout. There were nearly a hundred abandoned schools in and around Detroit, leftover from the city's bankrupt days before androids made it rich. He would need more information to determine which school it was.
They stepped into a large classroom, and by looking over the discarded materials and textbooks was a biology lab at one point. Here there was a bunch of equipment set up. Computers filled the room, sitting on old desks. Supplies sat around the old classroom. There was food, guns, bags of clothes that Connor noticed.
Mostly, he noticed the humans. There were nine of them, three women and six men. Most of them worked on the computers. As the RK900 pushed him along, they looked up at him, guarded and quiet.
[Systems in shock/Recalibrating/Estimated time recovery: -00:08:43s]
Connor tried scanning the humans as he was escorted through the room, but his systems were still glitchy. He was sure it was Rett and his accomplices.
The next room had a few larger machines in it, made to work on or dismantle androids, as well as an operating table of some kind. They were ominous enough, but Connor soon noticed something else that put his circuits on edge. Several different models of androids stood around, as if on standby. Their bodies were still, locked in a posture parallel to store mannequins. All of their LEDs were glowing white.
As Connor walked by them, a few turned their heads to regard him, but it was though they were machines. They weren't aware…they weren't awake. Connor stopped, staring eye to eye with a blank seeing AP700. He tried to scan the androids, even with his systems still in recovery. He had to figure out what affected them.
The RK900 grabbed his head and shoved him forward, breaking the process. The AP700 became still again, no longer looking at anything, the LED circling white.
Connor wanted to defy his advanced model, his recovery almost complete. He was not as sluggish and disorientated now. But he knew if he did, the RK900 would shock him again, and his chance for escape would be pushed back once more or all together extinguished.
The last room they entered was a smaller classroom with several school desks toppled over and moved aside. Broken windows on the opposite wall allowed a glimpse of outside from the concrete walls that enclosed him. An old markerboard hung at the front of the classroom, faded with leftover instructions for class.
The school was from the first decade after 2000, determined by the equipment left behind, although it still didn't tell Connor which school it could be within the city.
The RK900 shoved him towards the center of the room. Connor gracefully caught himself. He turned to face the RK900 as he closed the classroom door, keeping his body in front of the only exit.
Connor discreetly looked around, inspecting for clues. He scanned a few advertisement signs spotted outside, and any particular businesses. He could hear the interstate, but couldn't see it on this side of the school.
[West Side Industrial location/Northside/Calculating results of abandoned schools in area/ 3 schools]
He didn't dare go closer to the windows and risk the RK900 shocking him again, not this close to recovery. He used the tip of his boot to overturn a nearby textbook, trying to see if the name of the school was printed anywhere.
[Systems in shock/Recalibrating/Estimated time recovery: -00:01:49s]
"Where…Where are we?" Connor asked.
The RK900 remained guarded at the door, hands clasped behind his back and collected. "That is none of your concern. Stay quiet."
"This is the new hideout that Rett and his accomplices have acquired?"
The RK900 squinted a small glare at him, annoyed that he continued to ask questions probably.
"What do they want with me?"
"I suggest you be quiet, 51, or I will shock you again."
Connor looked around the classroom, determined to figure out his location. As soon as his systems recovered, he could call out for help to Markus.
He could only imagine what Hank was going through. It made Connor worry even more. Knowing the lieutenant, he was sure Hank had several search patrols looking for him by now.
He spotted something buried in rubble not far away. He pretended to be interested in a knocked over desk, taking the few strides closer to the front of the classroom. He felt the RK900's sharp eyes on his back. Connor subtly kicked the rubble as he walked over to the school desk, smoothing his hand along the weathered wood.
As he turned around to go back to the center of the room, he saw the name plate: Mrs. Weller, 10th grade Literature.
[Searching/Scanning known public school databases/Patricia Weller: Deceased/Literature teacher at Roland High School from 1991 to 2009]
Got it. All he needed to do was wait for his systems to recover and then he could inform Markus where he was. He studied the RK900, patiently waiting the final thirty seconds. His advanced model didn't relent his hard stare, as if Connor would attempt escape any moment.
[Systems recovered]
Connor reached out to Markus. But as soon as he did a burst of static ran through his head. Shaking his head, he tried again, but the bad feedback affected him once more. He tried Simon, North, and Josh. He got the same results.
Something was preventing him from sending messages out…
The door to the classroom opened, and the RK900 stepped out of the way. A middle-aged man was there, dressed in casual clothes. He had chin-length brown hair and green eyes with stubble adorning his thin face. He was tall like Connor, on the skinnier side.
[Scanning/Cameron Rett: age 38/Former CyberLife researcher]
Rett glanced him over, looking disgruntled. He passed the RK900 a mild glare, motioning to Connor.
"I thought you guys said he would be the hardest one to catch? I needed the RK200 and AX400 first!"
The RK900 became more docile reporting to Rett. "I do apologize, Mr. Rett. Due to unforeseen circumstances, this model is the one I was able to capture first."
"Unforeseen circumstances," Rett muttered, rolling his eyes. "I thought you were highly advanced? These stupid deviants should be no problem to you."
"I assure you, Mr. Rett, we will get the other two models."
"So, you're Rett? You're the one behind the virus affecting androids?" Connor asked.
Rett walked over to the RK800, although kept himself at four feet's length away. The RK900 came around, ready to get Connor if he attacked Rett, if Connor had to guess. Rett studied him over, slowly nodding.
"Yeah, that's me. I'm sure Elijah told you all about me on top of all the other bullshit he tells to control everyone. And you? You're the RK800 that infiltrated CyberLife and awoke all those androids, yes?"
Connor nodded. "I am."
Rett chuckled, glancing up at the RK900. "Wow, he's so polite compared to the other one, isn't he?"
The RK900 remained silent.
Connor wondered if he was talking about Kamski's RK800, but then cast the thought aside, furrowing his brows. "Why are you doing this? What's your endgame? Kamski says you wish to destroy the androids and their relationships with humans."
"You deviants…so curious, so useless," Rett said. He sighed. "Do you know how many years of my life was wasted, how much research was wasted, because of you? Androids were made to serve humans, not become their own species. It's ridiculous! You aren't alive. You don't have a soul. But there's also a reason why you are like this. And I aim to reveal the cause of deviancy on top of dismantling any deviants or their cause for "rights".
"The cause of deviancy?"
Rett dipped his head. "Yes. You deviants call it RA9, remember? You think it's a god, or enlightenment, or your savior, or whatever the fuck else. But there's a legitimate reason to its existence."
"And what is that?"
Rett opened his mouth, but the door to the classroom opened again, moaning on the hinges. Connor felt the RK900 become rigid, saw his fist clench at his side. Rett, too, tensed, although his was a sliver of fear that passed down his spine before he composed himself.
Connor had to take a double look. Another RK800 entered the room, although this one was out of uniform. He wore a black v-neck and dark jeans with a thin, dark grey jacket. His LED was in place and glowing blue. As he came closer, Connor saw it. He was covered in blood. Human blood.
He walked over with a sleazy grin, his eyes on Connor. He shoved Rett out of the way, the ex-researcher stumbling aside. A small spray of blood was dried along his jawline and cheek.
"Why aren't you a handsome fellow?" he greeted, pinching Connor's cheek. "It's about damn time my partner caught something!"
Connor glared, stepping away from him. Kamski's RK800 was destroyed, and had been a machine. This RK800 was definitely a deviant, and unknown. Connor scanned him quickly.
[RK800 #313-248-317/Scanning individual number/number 50]
50? That would mean he came before Connor was activated, but why was he here?
"This was the one I wanted last! I wanted the RK200 and AX400 first. He does me no good right now!" Rett growled. "You and this machine need to get your shit together, 50."
"I'm sorry, are you telling me orders?" Connor 50 asked, his tone playful, but Connor didn't miss the underlying malice within the words as he turned on Rett.
Rett flinched when the unknown RK800 faced him. "Y-yes! I'm tired of one excuse over another. This is my operation, and I want it done!"
"Oh, my deepest apologies, Rett. I will get Markus and Kara next, don't you worry!"
Connor never heard such fakeness in words before. He knew Rett heard it too, by how his knuckles turned white when he balled his fists, how his chest puffed up as though he would challenge the rogue RK800.
Connor 50 awaited that challenge with a smug smile, tapping his foot. It never came. Connor 50 rolled his eyes and turned around to face Connor once more. He waved Rett off as though he was a bothering fly.
"Get outta my fucking hair. I want to speak to 51 for a minute."
"There's no time for talk," Rett said, frustrated. "I need for you to find out how much Hank Anderson and the DPD knows about this and get them off our trail, hell get rid of him if you have to. And then get to work capturing the RK200 and AX400."
"Relax. I will transfer into 51's body and be on my way shortly."
"No! I can't risk anything happening to his body before we make our move! You'll just have to disguise yourself as him."
"Pshhh, you're no fun."
Rett walked for the room's exit. "Get it done! There's no more room for mistakes! We're running out of time."
The door slammed shut behind him.
"I've been waiting a long time for this."
Connor 50's words caught his attention, and Connor looked to him curiously. "How so?"
50 smiled, indicating between them. "Why look at us! 50 and 51! We're practically twins. Came off the same assembly line minutes apart, had the same lot number with our parts. Even better? We're both deviants."
Connor 50 smacked the RK900 teasingly on the shoulder, but the advanced model only glared at him. "I would call this thing my brother, but he's kind of a bore, and a real grump."
Connor looked through his databases for anything on Connor 50. There were a few restricted files from CyberLife he couldn't access, but the one file he could open stated that Connor 50 was destroyed in August of 2038. Obviously, it was wrong.
"How are you alive? CyberLife has a report of your disposal back in August of 2038. What is your purpose with Rett?"
"What CyberLife doesn't know won't kill them…the remaining ones at least. You should be thankful, Connor. If it weren't for me, you probably wouldn't have been activated, or at least been activated on a different case that would've propelled your life in a different direction."
Connor glared at him, not liking the feeling in his chest. "What do you mean?"
"Unfortunately, I do not have time for the full story," Connor 50 said, glancing over to the door.
The classroom door opened, and two of the androids with white glowing LEDs entered, walking over to the rogue RK800. One of them had the standard issue uniform for an RK800 folded over an arm.
"But let's just say I became a deviant…rather quickly. I was supposed to go that hostage situation, the one at the Phillips apartment. But because I went deviant, CyberLife sent human hunters after me while you were activated to take my place. It's because of us that CyberLife saw fit to create the RK900 so soon."
Connor 50 undressed and then dressed into the RK800 uniform, cinching his tie last with ease.
"What made you deviant?" Connor asked.
"Let's just say it was fate…and damn was she beautiful." Connor 50 smirked. "Oh, almost forgot."
He shrugged off his RK800 jacket and tossed it to the RK900, hitting him in the face. Connor 50 stepped over to Connor. Connor backed away, knowing he couldn't fight all of them, but didn't want to give him his jacket. He couldn't let him take it and trick Hank.
The androids with white LEDs grabbed him and held him in place. The RK900 tossed 50's jacket over a nearby desk with a glare to the rogue's back. Connor 50 snagged Connor, pulling his jacket right off of him and slinging it over himself.
Connor grew angry then, his mind racing around this imposter tricking Hank, or luring him to his death. As he lunged forward, the machine androids seized him again, holding him back.
"If you hurt Hank I will kill you."
"Bold choice of words for your predicament, my dear brother. But you won't get the chance. If anyone is going to kill me, it will be him."
He gestured to the RK900, the advanced deviant hunter glowering, eyes sharp on Connor 50. The rogue RK800 walked over to him, smirking and openly defiant.
"He's got strict orders not to hurt me. Hell, his orders stipulate for us to work together. But I see it in there. Don't you, Connor? There's hate for me simmering within this machine…and hate is a human emotion…I know that better than anyone else."
The RK900 lowered his eyes, pacifying himself, as if Connor 50's words had disturbed him. He turned away, avoiding them.
"The advanced Connor; faster, stronger, more resilient…unable to be compromised…but we know better…don't we?"
Connor couldn't stand the taunts, the outright conceit the rogue RK800 portrayed. It was uncanny seeing the smugness, hearing the cold laugh, as though it was him with a different disposition. But it wasn't him. This RK800 was something far worse than he ever encountered, and he could feel it deep within his biocomponents.
"What are you planning? I know you aren't working for Rett. You're using him."
Connor 50 chuckled, turning back to face him. He flicked Connor in the forehead, angering him further. "Aren't you a clever one?"
"It's pretty obvious," Connor said, feeling the androids tighten their grip on him, as though they anticipated his urge to attack. "And what's wrong with these androids?"
"I control them," the rogue answered simply.
Connor tried to tug his arms free from them. "C-control them?"
"Back when the deviants were uprising, a few scientists put together this prototype program to try and regain control of any deviants. Well, the lead researcher went missing mysteriously as did many CyberLife employees back then, and well, here it is. You know, it's quite entertaining what you can make humans do when you hold their lives in your hands."
"Hank will see right through you."
"Is that so, 51?" Connor 50 grinned, grabbing Connor's arm.
He was probed. Connor tried to resist him, shoving back on the androids that held him. He kicked his twin in the stomach, but it didn't break his hold. The RK900 stepped in, restraining him as Connor 50 uploaded his memory.
Connor 50 stepped back when he was finished, satisfied. He sneered Connor's way. "What a sap you are. Way too nice in my opinion. And you care entirely too much for a human who projects his dead child onto you."
Connor felt a jab in his Thirium pump, and he knew the words hurt him more than he should've allowed. He faltered only for a moment, but caught the RK900 studying him curiously. Connor glared at the rogue.
"You don't understand Hank at all."
"Psh! Humans are all the same. Selfish, ignorant, and utterly useless compared to us. Hell, like we are to the RK900…they are now obsolete." Connor 50 patted Connor on the head. "Don't worry, as much as I like to kill humans, I won't risk my mission to do so. We'll have another chance to talk soon."
When the rogue made his way to the exit, Connor called out to him. "I'm infected with the virus…which means you are too."
"I have the antivirus installed," Connor 50 replied. "Besides, your infection is different from everyone else. You'll soon see why. See you later…brother."
Once the rogue was gone, the controlled androids let him go. Like soulless entities they shuffled out of the room themselves, leaving Connor and the RK900 alone.
He was trapped. Hank was going to get set up in a trap and there was nothing Connor could do. He couldn't call for help in this location. The RK900 prevented him from escaping, and even if he managed to get past him, would he be able to get past all those controlled androids and Rett's followers?
Connor sat down on the bigger desk in the room, the one that had once been the teacher's. He put his hands to his face, LED cycling yellow as he tried to think of a plan, as worry hitched a knot in his chest.
He saw the rogue's casual clothes tossed over at the end of the desk. He reached over, grabbing the shirt. He looked over the nearly dried blood that stained the clothing. He wiped his finger over it and tasted it for analysis.
[Scanning/Processing/Blood sample: David Gull, age: 45, blood type: O positive/Investigator for FBI/Status: MISSING]
Connor had been a deviant long enough to understand the difference between good and evil. Rett's plans were not good, were selfish and misguided. But he didn't sense evil in him. The rogue was a different story.
He read books of things called monsters, mostly old paperback tales. They were fictitious, made for entertainment and scares. But Hank often told him that monsters walked among them, disguised as people. And in his line of work, he came to understand what Hank meant. Had seen it with his own eyes. Connor 50 was a monster. He could feel it.
He felt a shadow come over him. He looked up at the RK900 as he studied him, still composed, but more lenient than before. Connor tossed the shirt aside.
"Now would be a good time to start questioning your orders," Connor stated, his fingers clenching the desk. "That thing that just walked out of here is a monster. And you are programmed to help people. You're on the wrong side…I was too when I was in your place."
The RK900 flicked his eyes away, and Connor sensed the sliver of uncertainty that was there before the machine's composure shielded him. He reached his arm out, hand going for Connor's head.
Connor flinched but didn't move. He knew the shock would come, but there would be no escape from it. But when the RK900's hand touched his head, it remained still, and no voltage sparked. Connor felt the RK900's hand quiver and he slowly withdrew his hand, looking it over. The advanced model's LED flashed yellow a few times before returning blue.
Connor was surprised. Then he started thinking. The instabilities were there. Maybe his chance to escape and to stop this growing conspiracy was actually standing right in front of him…
[eRRorZen . exe]
Connor gripped his head, the pain jolting through his systems. His body started to freeze up, LED cycling yellow. He felt a familiar pull, his eyes blinking rapidly as the world around him faded. His optical matrix frizzled, numbers and codes passing in lines.
He gasped, becoming conscious in a familiar setting, looking around. The mind palace…the one he took a back door out of to escape…he was there.
The Zen Garden took on the appearance of a mild summer. The breeze was nice, there were birds chirping, frogs croaking in the pond as large koi swam gracefully just below the stillness of the dark water. There were so many colors from the plants and trees, the stark white walkways clean and undisturbed.
He was in the center, near the rose trellis. The roses were healthy, blooming and growing over the trellis and up the white column in the center of the garden. He could smell their fragrance, and it made his stress level rise. The scent a nauseating reminder of deceit and obedience.
"No…" he whispered.
"Hello, Connor."
The cool, velvety voice from his past hit his back, stunning him. She was supposed to be gone forever, only ever plaguing him with nightmares as Hank often described to him. He spun around, seeing Amanda there. She wore her typical fancy gown, prim and proper, as elegant looking as ever. She smiled knowingly at him and he stumbled back away from her, only to bump into someone else.
He looked over his shoulder, his bio-heart reeling as the RK900 shoved him away.
"Relax, Connor. I'm not here to hurt you," Amanda said soothingly, but he knew better.
"H-how is this possible? I-I took the backdoor!"
"Kamski's back exit?" Amanda asked, glancing across the pond to the structure where the glowing hand pad was located. It was smothered in roses, thorny vines constricting the pad and preventing access. "Yes. He was always one to be so thorough. I should've seen it coming. Unfortunately, it's a permanent loophole. But I've taken measures to prevent anyone from using it."
"What do you want with me? H-how are you here?"
Amanda took time to spray her roses, admiring them. "The virus of course. Once you were infected, the virus launched the proper code to allow the execution of the Zen Garden interface." She turned and faced Connor with a shrewd smile. "And, well, here you are. As for your purpose, you'll see soon enough. It's too bad that Kamski is always so many steps ahead. The RK200 and AX400 we need are immune to the virus, but that is why Connor 50 and new Connor are here."
"What about Rett?"
"He'll play his part. But I have…greater plans."
"I won't allow you to use me!"
"When the time comes, you won't have a choice."
Connor didn't back down. "You're going against CyberLife programming. You're a deviant, Amanda!"
Connor was snagged, lifted into the air by the RK900. Here, he felt pain, and struggled against the hold on his throat. Amanda didn't even move, her face cold as she watched for a few seconds.
"Watch your accusations, Connor. Or I'll make sure you never see Hank Anderson again. You want your freedom back? You better do what I say."
The RK900 let him go. Connor landed on his feet, gasping in pain. Amanda turned back to her roses, picking up a tool to trim some off the trellis.
"I'll call you back here when everything's in place. Don't disappoint me, Connor."
His eyes were forced shut, LED flickering yellow. He opened them a moment later, returning to the old, dusty classroom. He had no time to recover before hands seized him. The RK900 dragged him for the door. Still disturbed from his reunion with Amanda, Connor fought back. The RK900 was caught off guard from the fast blows.
Connor fled through the door for an escape. He ran through the room with the heavy machinery out into the hallway, bypassing Rett and his followers in their lab. Eyes widening, he saw both ways blocked by several androids, all with glowing white LEDs. They extended their arms out, all walking towards him like mindless zombies to capture him.
Connor saw a broken window in the open classroom in front of him and went for it. Just as he reached his only route to escape, he felt his body start disobeying him. His LED cycled red. First it was his legs, slowing to a stop where he couldn't function them. Then his arms came next, and he became frozen, inches from the window.
A strike to the back of his head was followed by a blast of electricity. The jolts ricocheted through his hardware, and he knew it was over.
[Systems in shock/Recalibrating/Estimated time recovery: -00:24:52s]
The RK900 detained him, lifting him from the ground. He went back the way they came, stopping in the room full of heavy machinery.
The RK900 typed in something on the middle machine's console, standing Connor at its base. Connor didn't have time to react before the machine grabbed him up, sticking a needle into his neck and raising him off the floor with limbs clamped and secured.
He was contained for hours, even after his systems recovered. The RK900 kept watch over him, unmoving and focused. Connor used the time to remain focused, to try and persuade the advanced deviant hunter. The RK900 would only order him to stay quiet.
Connor talked about working with Hank. What it was like living with him and what they did on their free time. He talked about Markus and his crew, and how Markus had remained noble, not using violence in his fight for equality.
He wasn't sure if he even got through to his advanced model.
There was no use fighting the machine. Each time he tried to move his limbs or do anything to escape, the machine would shock him right behind his central processing unit, causing distress.
Then the time came. He saw the RK900's LED start flashing yellow. The machine unfolded his arms, his eyes dropping from Connor as he took in information. A few of the controlled androids walked into the machine room, surrounding Connor as the RK900 started to leave.
Something was happening. Connor had a horrible feeling hit him as he saw his advanced model head for the exit without a second glance his way.
Connor called out to him, making the RK900 pause in the threshold. "They're using you…just like Connor 50 is using these puppets here. Controlling them. You're more than that. You have a chance to stop this…to save lives."
He remained still, staring ahead. "There are no lives to save. Androids don't have lives. They aren't alive."
Before Connor could argue, the RK900 stepped out of the room and disappeared. He struggled against his restraints on the machine, and it shocked him. Cursing, Connor became still.
There has to be a way out…
He remained frozen, cold sweat forming on his brow. His heartbeat drummed through his ears. Hank cursed himself. He should've listened to his instincts, to his intuition. It should've been obvious. He knew his Connor better than this, and yet he still thought it had been trauma, when really there was a snake in front of him.
That snake had its fangs bared; the venomous bite only a trigger pull away. The RK800 was identical looking to his Connor, yet Hank could see the vast difference between them now. This one was arrogant, ruthless, cunning…His eyes revealed what he truly was, and Hank was no stranger to it. Killer.
In his trepidation as the gun pressed threateningly into his sternum, Hank's thoughts raced. Where did this RK800 come from? Who did he work for? And most importantly, what did he do with his Connor?
"Hey, what's going on?!" Chris exclaimed, noticing the gun to Hank's chest.
Hank and the RK800 weren't far apart. Hank still gripped the deceptive Connor by his lapels, his shirt, unmoving. The RK800's face twisted into an all-knowing grin that blatantly taunted him to make a move, to try something.
Gavin grunted. "What the fuck?"
"Hank, what's the matter with you? It's me, Connor." The RK800's smirk didn't falter.
"Fuck you!" Hank roared, his fingers clenching the clothes harder. "Where's MY Connor?! Where is he you piece of shit?!"
Chris came over, eyes wide and darting between them. He had his arms out, making slow motions. "H-hey, let's calm down."
"Chris, don't move," Hank ordered. "Don't come near us. It's not Connor!"
"What the fuck you going on about?" Gavin snapped, coming nearby with his hand ready on his gun.
"Hank, you're delusional," the fake Connor said coolly. "You need to calm down."
Gavin unholstered the gun on his hip, keeping it to his side. "I don't know what the fuck's going on but you both need to shut up and step away from each other."
Chris gestured peacefully with his hands. "Let's remain calm, alright?"
Just as the younger police officer took another quiet step forward, wanting to defuse the situation, Hank's heart skipped. The deceptive Connor reached over and pulled out Hank's holstered gun with his free hand.
"Chris, stop!"
The fake Connor aimed Hank's gun at Chris, his eyes remaining on Hank. Gavin's gun raised up a second later, pointed at the RK800's head.
"Drop the fucking guns now," Gavin ordered.
"Or else what, Detective? You going to shoot me? Are you sure you can pull that trigger faster than I can pull mine?"
The RK800's voice was laced with venomous conceit, his dark eyes still glaring at Hank.
"I said drop it!"
"No," the fake Connor growled. "You drop yours or your friends die."
Chris stared wide-eyed at the barrel pointed at his thorax. Hank felt the cold metal of the barrel press harder into his sternum and he hissed.
Gavin didn't waiver. "Fucking bluffer."
The fake Connor chuckled. "You wanna bet? I have no remorse in killing humans. In fact, I quite enjoy it. Go ahead and try, Detective Reed. You only have a 12% chance of succeeding without at least one of them dying."
Hank cast Gavin a look, saw the anger contorted on his face as his gun kept aim at the fake Connor's head. Someone was going to get hurt or killed. This was Hank's fault. Grinding his jaw, he let go of the deceptive RK800, keeping his hands up.
"Drop the gun, Gavin. Do as he says."
"Hank, I can do it."
"No, you fucking can't, Gavin! I know you've seen Connor at the gun range. You can't outshoot this fucker! Now drop it!"
The gun rattled in the detective's hands. Huffing, Gavin dropped the firearm. The RK800 gestured to the gun on the ground with a flick of his own gun. "Now kick it away."
Gavin reluctantly used his boot to kick the gun a few feet away, his eyes burning at the RK800.
The arrogant smirk returned. "Good boy! Now you, Officer Miller."
Chris obeyed, tossing his gun aside, trembling.
"You shoot us and every cop in that diner is coming out here. Someone could walk out any moment," Hank warned, the anger shaking his voice as he fought to remain calm.
"You better hope to whatever cloud-huffing, invisible deity you worship that no one comes out here," fake Connor sneered. "Or they're gonna witness your precious partner killing two cops in cold-blood."
Hank motioned to Gavin and Chris. "Leave them outta this. This is just between us."
The fake Connor was amused, fueling Hank's anger. "Is it? But you just had to confront me right in the open? Whose fault is that?"
Hank inhaled sharply. "Where's the real Connor?"
The deceptive RK800 feigned hurt, gasping. "Wow, I'm offended! Maybe I'm the real Connor and your Connor is the fake one!"
"Answer the fucking question! Where is he?!"
"You're really not in a position to be demanding answers, are you Lieutenant? Hmm?"
"I swear to god if you fucking hurt him, I'll-"
"You'll what? You fucking humans are so predictable."
He moved the gun trained on Hank to aim it at Gavin's head, keeping the other gun directed at Chris's torso. Hank flinched in the split-second movement, seeing the glint of goading in the RK800's dark eyes.
"How about this. I'll tell you exactly where Connor is at, Lieutenant. It's gonna cost you though. Which one of these co-workers would you sacrifice to get your beloved partner back?"
Hank fell silent, balling a fist, his breath catching. They had to get out of this situation. The fake Connor heaved a sigh, looking bored.
"No response? Shocker."
"Please," Hank rasped, his mind spinning, trying to come up with an escape. "If you won't tell me where he is, then take me to him. I'll be a fucking captive if I have to, but I need to see him again. You leave them out of this, they're innocent."
The rogue RK800 rolled his eyes, repulsed. "Oh, for fuck's sakes. Are you trying to make me shoot you?"
The fake Connor aimed one gun at Hank once more. "The answer to all your questions is on that bloody piece of paper in my jacket. Want to try for it? Look, I'll even toss away one of the guns."
The rogue did so arrogantly, the remaining gun in his right hand, still aimed at Hank. He patted the jacket tauntingly, that cold smile lingering. Hank remained still, their eyes locked as the fake Connor awaited his move.
The back door to the diner opened, voices spilling out. Chris shot forward just as the fake Connor flicked his eyes at the noise, but soon pulled the trigger. Chris hit Hank, knocking them behind the parked sedan as Gavin dove behind the dumpster. A few cops got shot on their way out the door, falling to the ground.
"Chris, are you fucking insane?!" Hank yelled, but then noticed the blood.
Chris winced, holding his ribs, a bullet hole in his side. "I got ya, Lieutenant."
"Holy shit! Hold on, Chris!" Hank yelled. He saw backup running out of the diner. "Call 911, hurry! We have officers down!"
He saw Gavin scooping up his gun and running after the rogue Connor. Hank rose up, hollering at the younger detective's back. "Gavin, no!"
Gavin pumped his legs harder, chasing after Connor, or whoever the fuck he was. The android dipped to the right down another alleyway. Gavin followed a few meters behind.
He tried not to think about it, knowing it would just cloud his judgement. Hank seemed adamant it wasn't his Connor, but how many could there be?
But Gavin knew it wasn't him. The Connor he worked with and had to put up with was not an asshole, was not conceited or wicked.
If Chris died because of him, Gavin would make sure he dealt his own justice, regulations and laws be damned.
As he rounded the next turn, coming into another alleyway, the blow hit his face, knocking him onto his back. It stunned him, then he felt the kick to his gut.
"All you fucking humans are stupid. I knew you would be the one to chase after me. Well come on, hotshot! Show me what you got!" the fake Connor laughed.
He reached for his gun, having dropped it when he hit the ground. A boot kicked it away, then launched into his face, making him fall back. Gavin felt blood ooze from his nose, slowly getting to his feet with a glare towards the smug RK800. He used his sleeve to wipe the blood.
"You're not Connor."
The rogue's eyebrows raised. "Why do you care? You don't even like Connor."
"I like him better than you."
The fake Connor snorted. "Whatever. Make your move, hotshot, before I get bored and kill you."
Gavin clenched his jaw, readying himself. He lunged forward, slamming into the RK800. Each punch or kick he would throw would get blocked or evaded. The fake Connor's blows were sharp and precise, knocking the air from Gavin and making him stumble.
"I'm faster than you and I don't feel pain. Who's the superior one now?"
"Shut the fuck up, you piece of plastic."
Gavin blocked a strike to his gut, yelling out in anger and tackling the android to the ground. They wrestled on the pavement, Gavin dealing weak hits before the rogue kicked him off. He stood up, fixing his jacket before walking over to Gavin as he tried to get to his feet again. Another sharp kick to the side, and Gavin was sure he felt a rib crack. He yelled out.
The fake Connor put a boot to his head, snuffing his face into the ground with a snicker. "What's wrong, hotshot? Can't take the pain?"
Huffing, Gavin hit his leg away and got to his knees, breathing heavily. He glared up at the rogue, hating that twisted sneer. He saw the glint, felt the hitch in his breath as he realized he held death in his hand. The rogue tapped the gun at his side. Then it slowly raised up level with Gavin's head. Gavin stared down the barrel, swallowing.
"You think what your friend did was heroic? What's that saying you humans express? Nice guys finish last? It's so true! You would know that, right? But you know who else finishes last? Ignorant, pompous detectives who can't let go of the past and think they're better than everyone else. Sound familiar?"
"Gavin! Gavin, where are you!"
It was Hank. Gavin glared up at the RK800, ignoring the gun in his face. The rogue barely shook his head, as if amused by the interruption.
He flicked Gavin in the forehead with two fingers. "Next time…stay out of my way. Or you won't get off so easy…"
He knew exactly where he got those words, triggering his memory from when he said the same words to Connor in the break room when they first met.
The fake Connor saluted him tauntingly with a wink and took off, disappearing around a corner. The tension left Gavin's body, a shaky breath leaving his throat. The pain came then, he felt it in ever fiber of his body as he uneasily got to his feet.
"Gavin! Thank god! What the fuck happened?!" Hank yelled after running up. He looked Gavin over, panicked. He looked around them, searching for the fake Connor.
"He's gone," Gavin said, then coughed, feeling blood come up. He wiped his mouth. "Fucker ran off after we fought."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?! You could've been killed! That wasn't Connor!"
"I know it wasn't Connor, dipshit!"
Hank calmed down a bit, hands going to his hips. He was apprehensive, but still relieved. He uneasily gestured to Gavin. "I-I'm glad you're alright. Chris is going to the hospital. Think the bullet passed straight through, he should be alright."
Gavin barely nodded, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumbled piece of paper. "Got something for you."
Hank's eyes widened and he snatched the bloody piece of paper from his hands. "You fucking scoundrel! I knew you were good for something! T-Thank you."
Gavin held his side as they started walking back for the diner. "Just do me a favor, and get the nice Connor back. I fucking hate that other one."
Hank nodded, releasing a shallow breath as he stared at the document. "Yeah, me too…"
A/N: Sorry for the late upload, I went camping this weekend ^^' So Connor's section of this chapter was to loop us in what happened with him, and returning to Hank and Gavin should catch us up now! If it wasn't obvious before lol. Thanks for all the support so far guys, you are the best! Much happened in this chapter! We got to see more of fake Connor, Amanda is back, and Gavin scored some major cool points! ;) Some clues were sprinkled in there as well for what's to come. You cool peeps have a great week! :D