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Unknown entity detected.

Running system diagnostics.

Connor hated the rain.

A few days ago he might have walked around in the rain. He might have loved the way it made his clothes cling to his skin or how the raindrops would trail down his cheeks. At the time there had been nothing more relaxing, nothing more charming, but now it was different.

Now he hates rain.

It makes him feel miserable. He was already upset but the rain worsened his mood. That's why instead of straight out sitting in the rain, Connor settles himself on a bus-stop bench. There he could see the sky clearly, just like his feelings, cluttered and grey with rain clouds. It was the evening so there weren't many people out and the rain encouraged the humans to stay inside. Androids were still walking around though and there were a few humans with umbrellas out and about.

Connor's fists tighten their hold on the fabric of his pants as he thinks of the humans. First, they are unintelligent and incredibly emotional. They were needlessly cruel and Connor can think of several examples. There was the vivid memory of finding kittens in the rain, unsheltered from the weather around them, and Connor guesses it must have been a human that put them there. Who else would toss kittens out in the rain? Connor cannot think of many androids willing to do the same lest their morality clashed against his own.

Humans were also violent creatures.

He remembers Hank stumbling inside the house with bruises littering his skin after a bar-fight. Then he remembers who Hank tells him of the doctor who was too drunk to operate on his son. After that, Connor's thoughts go to the representatives of Cyberlife who cared more for profit and refused to consort with the recently freed androids. Connor then thinks of the deviant cases he worked on. Humans abused their androids. He could see it in the Tracis who linger in New Jericho from time to time, to Kara who keeps her family close to her, and to the other androids who struggled to come to terms with the abuse they suffered.

Mean. Vicious. Cruel.

Humans were terrible.

Connor's shoulders slump and his grip lightens.

Humans were also good.

Hank takes care of Connor. He defends his honor even when he didn't need to. He let him house kittens even though he seemed not to like the idea so much. Then there was Carl, a man who accepted Markus as his son even though the very thought of doing so seemed preposterous. It makes Connor reconsider his own relations… and he wondered… if he and Hank could be considered that close.

But that alone seemed irrational.

Hank was mourning over the son lost to him. How could he dare to hope for something that wasn't there?

Then there were those who supported the android cause. Connor had lost count of people who have treated him as an equal rather than a product used to work underneath a human.

Humanity.

Connor wakes from his thoughts when he feels a presence thunk down on the bench beside him. He lifts his eyes and watches the man sniff beside him. He was pretending to look aloof but Connor knew better. Hank was anything but 'aloof' unless he was drunk. Hank was shockingly perceptive for someone who made an effort to make it look like he didn't care.

"Was hard to find you," Hank begins, "and when I was just about to get up I see some loner sulking out of the corner of my eye."

Hank's eyes connect with Connor's and then drift to the dark red LED on the side of Connor's head.

Distress.

"Connor," Hank gets straight to the point, "what's wrong?"

Connor doesn't know.

He doesn't know.

That's why he doesn't say anything.

Hank decides to do something else.

"So I met Markus today. He's that android you hang out with, right?"

Connor may have been silent but he listens. He would always listen to Hank.

"He came straight to me when he learned something was wrong with you. Said I might be able to help you out. Some friend, huh?"

Hank takes another glance at Connor's LED.

Still a warning red.

"Connor," He says, unsure of himself, "I would like to help you but I don't know how. I need you to tell me how to do it."

Connor grasps at the fabric of his pants once more. Hank, seeing this, lifts his hand and cautiously places it on Connor's.

Connor blinks.

After Connor makes no reaction to deny Hank, his friend clasps his hand between both of his own.

It makes… Connor feel warm.

Connor relents.

"Something-..." Connor can't find the words but he trudges onward, "something… it's… something is inside of me… and I'm feeling things that aren't… typical… nor rational…"

Even now his system was still trying to find what was wrong with him. All he knew was that some unknown entity was invading.

Connor suddenly feels a deep anger that he can't control what's happening to him.

Connor continues, no longer hesitant, "And it pisses me off that it thinks it can just waltz around and screw me over."

Hank says nothing but his grip tightens.

"Sounds like a virus."

Connor turns his eyes from the rain as Hank's words dawn on him.

A virus.

It made sense-

Connor considers his options then. He had a malware detection program installed but it was of Cyberlife design. If he used it, they would know, but he didn't want to be stuck as he was for the rest of his life.

Connor's LED glows a stressful yellow.

"Connor?" Hank calls.

"I'm okay Hank. I think I know what to do."

Hank nods.

"You do what you have to," he says, "I'll be right here."

"Okay but… don't panic. I may be… unresponsive to outside stimuli for a moment."

Hank nods again and Connor is satisfied with his reaction.

Connor's eyes flutter shut.

Malware detecting program initiated.

Scanning…

Virus detected. Activating removal process.

Virus removed.

When Connor opens his eyes, it is not to the rain.

"Connor?"

Connor didn't know how long he had been out of it. Apparently long enough to find himself in Hank's home with Hank hovering over him with a strange amount of concern in his eyes.

"Hank," Connor tests out his name, afraid that his emotions may still be haywire.

"That's me," Hank laughs gently and it's the most soothing sound Connor had ever heard before in his life. If only Hank could do it more. Connor wouldn't mind too much if he did.

"You okay?" Hank finally questions.

Connor notices Hank's hands never left his own even when he wakes in Hank's home. They grasp his left hand tightly and Hank makes no effort to let go.

Connor allows a small smile to grace his lips.

"Yes, Hank," Connor says, "I'm okay."