Zeta Facility - Night of the Incident
Enraged and righteously worried after receiving the unexpected and bone chilling phone call late into the night, Hank stormed into the Zeta Android Emergency Care Facility like a man on a mission as he directly confronted his Captain. Awaiting Hank's arrival Captain Fowler was standing idle in the waiting room of the same facility with his back to the front entrance of the building and his eyes transfixed on the clock on the far wall. The seasoned police Captain had been preparing for Hank's inevitable arrival and knew that the confrontation was going to be less than civil since Hank was the type of person to let his anger burn hot when push came to shove. It was best to handle the Lieutenant himself rather than subject an innocent rookie offer to Hank's fiery wrath.
Rushing up to his commanding officer from behind, Hank clamped his hand down on Captain Fowler's shoulder to spin him around so they could stand before each face to face. Hank grabbed on to Captain Fowler's coat lapels and practically picked up his superior officer to pin him against the wall of the waiting room under the ticking clock as he glared with a venomous stare into the man's widened eyes.
"What the fuck did you do, Jeffrey?!"
"Hank, take it easy!" Captain Fowler took hold of Hank's wrists with both hands to try and push the hotheaded Lieutenant away from him. "You need to-"
"Fuck you!" Hank dropped Captain Fowler onto his feet and took a step back just as two deviant security personnel arrived in the waiting room to stop the violent altercation. "He's been GONE for two days - no notice, no updates - and when you finally DO tell me something about what the Hell's going on it's after Connor gets fuckin' shot!"
"Hank!" Determined to keep control over the situation Captain Fowler shouted at Hank to get his attention before their fight escalated any further. "He's still alive!"
"Oh, he's still alive!" A brand new heated anger rose up from within Hank as he got right back in Captain Fowler's face. "So as long as he doesn't die you can put him in front of damn firing squad if it fits your agenda!"
"Listen to me," Captain Fowler put up his hand to halt the approaching security guards who were ready to tackle Hank to the ground and stop the fighting. The experienced officer was ready to handle Hank by himself. "I'll tell you everything that happened, but first you need to take a breath and calm down."
"Calm down?" Such a request as insulting as it was impossible at that moment. Hank's blue eyes were burning with anger and his face was beginning to redden with a righteous fury. "Are you fuckin' bullshitting me right now!?"
"Hank, please." Remaining impressively levelheaded Captain Fowler tried to reason with Hank as civilly as possible. "Just take a moment and breathe."
If Captain Fowler wasn't his oldest friend Hank would've punched him in the face as hard as he could that very instant. Forcing himself to restrain as much of his anger as possible Hank took another step back and planted himself firmly in the middle of the waiting room as he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly while the two security guards backed off. The two detectives were the only humans in the waiting room and were being watched by the eyes of every deviant in the vicinity.
"All right... Fine." Crossing his arms over his chest Hank focused his fiery glare on his commanding officer as he demanded his answers. Hank wasn't going to leave until he knew the full story. "Spill it, Jeffrey. Where the fuck were you, and where was Connor when that asshole pulled the trigger?"
Detroit Central Precinct - Two Days Before the Incident
After receiving an e-mail from the higher-ups Captain Fowler opened the door to his private office and addressed the lone deviant detective sitting at his terminal across from Hank as the duo filed their daily reports to the precinct. The sight of the only two detectives in charge of deviant cases - handling the only deviant division in the entire city - working diligently at their desks had become so commonplace that often times Captain Fowler only remembered that Connor was a deviant when he caught a glimpse of the glowing L.E.D. in Connor's temple. It was also hard for the experienced Captain to believe that at one point Hank had loathed all androids with a fiery passion, and yet now he was far more protective of Connor than anyone else in all of Detroit.
Having a new assignment that needed his immediate attention Captain Fowler homed-in on Connor and decided to speak to him in private. If Hank overheard the assignment that he was about to issue Connor, then there would undoubtedly be some resistance from the stubborn Lieutenant and the odds were in favor of Connor doing whatever it was Hank would ask him to do instead.
"Connor." Calling out to the deviant detective in the bullpen Captain Fowler nervously dragged his hand over his chin and summoned him over to the private space that was his office for a quick chat. "I need to see you in my office. Now."
Unsure of why he had been summoned so suddenly Connor saved the data on his terminal as he rose from his chair and met Captain Fowler inside the office to speak as requested. Sitting down in the vacant chair across from Captain Fowler's desk Connor gave his commanding officer his full attention as Captain Fowler spoke to Connor from his own side of the desk with a terse but even tone.
Curious about the strange meeting as well, Hank turned in his chair slightly to watch the conversation taking place through the glass wall of the office even though he couldn't hear a thing. Hank had never been good at reading lips so he could only guess as to what was being said solely by observing the body language of the two occupants of the room.
Whatever was being discussed wasn't good.
Connor appeared to be trying to reason with Captain Fowler, if not arguing, but Captain Fowler wasn't backing down. Reluctantly Connor agreed to whatever it was that Captain Fowler had assigned to him, the blue L.E.D. flashed to yellow to match the emotional distress on Connor's face and illuminated the opposite wall of the office with an amber hue. Exiting the office with his head bowed down slightly Connor walked up to Hank and gave his friend a somber stare as he sat on the edge of Hank's desk to let him know what was going on.
"Connor?" Knowing Connor fairly well had given Hank insight into Connor's demeanor, and he sensed something was very wrong. "What's happening?"
"...I've been reassigned."
"What?" Hank sounded as skeptical as Connor was despondent. "Reassigned? To where?"
"Captain Fowler didn't specify." Shaking his head a little Connor tried to explain things to his partner to the best of his ability with such scarce information. "He told me to clock-out and report back to him at five a.m. tomorrow morning. Only then will I be made aware of the full details of my reassignment."
"Wait, he can't just do that! He can't just shuffle you around and like a pawn on a chessboard and not give you any reason why!"
"It's already done." Connor's yellow L.E.D. blinked to red once before returning to yellow. "As of tomorrow, I will no longer be working with you... Or here at all."
"Shit." Hank rubbed his hand through his shaggy gray locks as he tried to give Connor a reassuring grin. Being separated wasn't something the two detectives had anticipated, but it wasn't something that Hank was going to let happen without a fight. "Well, don't worry about it. I'll get this straightened out. You'll see."
"Yes... Okay."
"Look, clock-out and go home like you were told to do. I'll talk to you later in person back at the house."
"Okay." Connor nodded slowly as he listened to Hank's instructions with faith that his friend could figure everything out in his stead. "I'll go home. I'm sure that'll make Sumo happy."
With the demeanor of a scolded puppy Connor slid off of the desk as he clocked-out for the day and logged off of his terminal. As he walked away from the desk Connor turned to give Hank one last glance over his shoulder as if expecting something to have changed in the few steps he took. It looked like absolute fear had been stricken in his soulful brown eyes as the deviant detective reluctantly left the precinct as he had been ordered and set out to return home.
Alone.
"Shit, kid. Don't look at me like that."
Turning in his chair slightly Hank looked at Captain Fowler through the transparent wall of the commanding officer's private office and glared at him with an unspoken anger. The police Captain looked uneasy behind his own desk, and it just made Hank all the more upset about the entire ordeal.
"You know you fucked something up, didn't you, Jeffrey?"
Determined to check in with his friend Hank drove home immediately after he clocked out four hours later to meet with Connor at home and figure out what was going on. Captain Fowler had refused to speak to Hank or tell him anything about what was happening with Connor's reassignment, but that didn't stop Hank from trying to reach out to his contacts to potentially give him information on what the hell was happening at the precinct. Unfortunately, the contacts couldn't give him any information either. For the first time in a very long time Hank truly felt like he was alone while trying to work on a complicated case and felt like he was about to be faced with a brand new challenge.
Opening the front door of the house Hank had expected to see Connor sitting on the couch waiting for him, but instead he found that the house was empty except for Sumo laying on the kitchen floor looking sadly at the backdoor to the house. The missing deviant and Sumo's somber behavior created a sinking feeling in Hank's stomach that led to a single conclusion.
"Connor?"
Hank shouted somewhat loudly as if he expected the deviant to come wandering out of a room down the hall or through the backdoor casually.
"Connor? Are you here, kid?"
No answer.
"What the hell is going on?"
Finding himself officially alone Hank then grumbled as he walked into the kitchen to pet Sumo's head as the massive dog got up to greet him. It was then he saw an envelope containing a letter sitting on the middle of the kitchen table and propped up against a coffee mug to ensure that it was noticed. The letter was addressed to Hank and printed in Connor's infuriatingly perfect handwriting, which of course made Hank worry.
"Oh, shit."
Opening the envelope hastily Hank pulled out the letter and read the message that had been left behind with an intense stare. The words left behind were as disheartening as they were cryptic.
"Fuckin'... No. Poor Connor."
Heavily Hank sat down at the chair beside the table as he processed the information with an equally heavy heart. Sumo whimpered in an empathetic response and pressed his chin down on Hank's knee as the loyal dog sensed Hank's worries and the tension in the air.
"What did they do to you?"
Detroit Central Precinct - One Day Before the Incident
Begrudgingly Hank entered the precinct on time for the first time in almost four years without Connor's company as he set out to confront Captain Fowler about what had happened to the deviant. However, his Captain was curiously absent from both the bullpen and from his private office. Temporarily in charge of the precinct was another officer, Captain Gage. Said Captain was a familiar face to Hank as Captain Randal Gage had been one of the officers who helped train Hank when he was rookie and taken in the officers for temporary reassignment when the Central Precinct had been damaged in a past fire. It was also Captain Gage who had informed the irritated senior detective that Captain Fowler had been placed on a special assignment and that he too knew nothing of Connor's bizarre sudden reassignment or why it was being kept quiet.
Pissed off at the world and unwilling to just let the enigmatic behavior slide Hank stormed out of the precinct to return home and pull every possible string he could get his hands on to locate Connor and to finally figure out what Captain Fowler was up to. While Captain Gage wasn't entirely familiar with Hank's personality, he recognized a hot temper and just let Hank vent his frustrations in hopes that he'd cool off, then sent him back home.
"This is bullshit! No one knows anything these days!"
The pissed off Lieutenant grumbled as he practically tore his driver's side door off as he sat down behind the wheel of the Oldsmobile and forced the key into the ignition to turn over the engine and floor it out of the parking garage. He wanted nothing to do with work or cases until he was brought into the loop and treated with a little respect.
"The least he could do is give me the dignity of a straight fuckin' answer."
Pulling the car out of the parking garage and onto the street Hank turned for home and kept muttering to himself and feeling like he had been betrayed.
"I may be an asshole, but I still deserve the dignity of an honest answer, damn it."
The Industrial District - The Night of the Incident
Loyal to his unorthodox assignment despite his reluctance to accept it, Connor sat beside Captain Fowler in the back of an unmarked black car parked a few blocks away from a suspicious shipping yard. Wearing the same disguise that he had worn when he had infiltrated Jericho on the night of the Raid - a black beanie to cover his hair and his L.E.D., thick dark brown leather coat with a gray hoodie instead of his gray CyberLife blazer, and tan work boots in favor of his favored black dress boots - Connor looked like any normal human wandering through the city. It was the perfect disguise to let Connor blend in and look like any other unassuming human wandering the docks while looking for work.
The unmarked car was parked out of sight of any potential criminals who might notice that the police were in the area and try to hide. Keeping their presence subtle and small in numbers was the best chance that the police had in being able to track down the criminals they were actively searching for. It was never easy to when it came to locating traffickers before their victims were shipped overseas.
"This is the guy you need to get close to." Captain Fowler handed Connor a mugshot on a tablet screen to scan and incorporate into his memory. "Jack 'the Ripper' Culver. He's dangerous and usually well-armed with several goons watching his back at all times. You need to watch your step and be mindful of everything that you say while in his presence."
"What is his crime?" Connor asked curiously as he had been kept entirely in the dark over the past twenty-four hours regarding this new assignment. "Why is it so important that I go undercover and tail him as of tonight?"
"This guy is infamous for dismantling androids to tear apart and sell as illegal spare parts on the black market. He's also been known to sell Thirium to junkies who think they can use it to get high. As you know raw Thirium is lethal to humans." Giving Connor a rundown on the report Captain Fowler was able to quickly bring the deviant detective up to speed. "Ever since the Revolution and the android care facilities began opening up over the city, he's stepped up his game. Culver is now butchering androids for parts while also breaking into facilities to steal the legally created parts and Thirium to create an intentional supply shortage throughout Detroit. Desperate enough deviants will pay a hefty price just to live, and this asshole doesn't see a problem with that."
Connor swallowed nervously as his deviancy had brought emotions into his physical responses. To be specific, it was a human response to anxiety that Connor had observed and subconsciously developed as he began to feel emotions and understand them a little more with each passing day. As he listened to Captain Fowler's briefing Connor considered contacting Hank, but remembered it was forbidden as of the moment.
"None of our boys can get inside Culver's inner circle because they don't have the intimate knowledge of android anatomy to pass as an underground technician." Captain Fowler explained the assignment further in a logical manner. "But you, as an android, can blend in perfectly."
"I see." The logic was sound, but the plan wasn't foolproof. "...What if I'm discovered to be an android?"
"While you're tailing Culver I'll be watching your back from the docks. You're cybernetically connected to my phone, right?"
"Correct." Pressing his fingertips to his L.E.D. beneath the beanie Connor confirmed the connection. "I am connected without any hindrances."
"Good. I'll be able to keep in constant contact with you, and in the event that something goes wrong I'll give you the heads up so you can get out of there before someone harms you."
"Captain... I strongly feel that someone else would be more qualified as an undercover operative." Inexperienced with such a crucial mission and feeling trepidation that he couldn't explain, Connor tried to convince Captain Fowler to call the mission off. "I'm still comprehending emotions and pain. I don't think I can pass as completely human yet. I barely passed as a deviant among other androids within Jericho."
"I hate sending you in there, I really do, but you're our best bet." Time was crucial and Captain Fowler didn't have time to try to find another detective to fill the important role. "If we can't nab Culver within the next forty-eight hours then he'll disappear out of the country for good. Who knows how many other androids are being held captive and could be illegally shipped overseas and forced into servitude all because of this one sick freak?"
Realizing the full gravity of the situation Connor leaned forward in his seat and took in a deep breath. "...Forty-eight hours?"
"Yeah. Not a very big window of opportunity."
"I understand." Letting out his breath Connor steadied himself and focused on his assignment professionally. "What do I need to find in order to convict Culver?"
"If you can uncover any document directly linking his bank account to any off-the-books associate; doctors, politicians, military personnel, we should be able to get a warrant and search his wares. That's out best bet unless you can catch him in the act of disassembling an android."
"And if I find any captive androids during my search?"
"That's more complicated." Captain Fowler sighed with a heavy breath as well as his dark eyes lowered guiltily to the floor of the car. "I can't tell you to NOT save them, but I can't ask you to risk yourself to save them, either."
"...I understand."
"Go, now." Checking his phone Captain Fowler confirmed his connection to Connor's system. "I'll be down at the west end of the yard monitoring your every move."
Connor took a moment to mentally steel himself before he exited the car and discreetly walked toward the shipping yard about two-hundred yards away as quietly as possible. Several of Culver's men were already patrolling the shipping yard with guns visible and at the ready; six in total. A dozen lesser men had infiltrated the shipping yard to move the illegally obtained android parts as discreetly as possible under the cover of darkness strictly under Culver's command.
A single light shone through the window of an office on the second floor of the storage warehouse overlooking the illicit activity outside. The silhouette of a man standing in the window watching the men working below matched the physical appearance of Culver himself based on the image provided.
Very quickly Connor found his man. Now he just needed to get close to him, get inside his office and check through his personal files.
Keeping his head held high to avoid suspicion Connor entered the shipping yard and proceeded to mirror the movements of the other men to ensure that he seemed as though he was a member of Culver's inner circle. As he carefully took notice of every single shipping crate he passed by and recorded the serial numbers for future evidence, Connor also scanned the faces of the criminals around him easily connecting their past criminal histories to their current activity to ensure that every member of Culver's organization was sent to prison.
'You're doing good Connor. Everything you've sent me so far is pretty damning.'
Captain Fowler's voice spoke to Connor cybernetically over the phone connected to his L.E.D. that was still unseen under the beanie covering it up.
'I can see you in the distance. Stay outside a little while longer before heading inside the warehouse.'
Unable to verbally respond to the order Connor just looked toward the west and nodded slightly as he resumed his stealthy search of the shipping containers and looked for any useful documents to put Culver behind bars. Connor chronicled the contents of every container and noted that the materials that Culver had collected could only be used for illegal or malicious intent against the city for personal gain. Stolen android parts, biocomponents, Thirium, numerous guns, several kilos of 'red ice', and most disturbingly, two crates that held two dozen female androids to be sold off as sex slaves in various parts of the world where androids were banned from entering, were amongst the many increasingly illegal items Connor had noted.
'Yeah, I saw the androids, too.'
Attentive as ever, Captain Fowler saw Connor visibly flinch when he passed by the create where the unconscious and helpless androids had been stored. It was difficult for Connor to just walk past androids in need of help, but he pushed forward to continue his assignment as ordered.
'We'll make sure they all make it out of there intact.'
Avoiding eye contact with anyone nearby Connor blended in with the surrounding criminals easily and remained completely calm in his demeanor. Determined to finish the undercover operation as quickly as possible Connor never broke stride and didn't say or do a single thing that would risk his cover.
'Connor,' Captain Fowler's voice cut in again as he tracked the deviant's movements remotely. 'Culver's just left his office and is on his way out to inspect the containers. Now's your chance to get inside his office without being detected.'
Moving slowly Connor entered the warehouse and stuck to the shadows against the walls to remain out of sight. Scanning the area carefully he noted the location of the other members of Culver's group patrolling outside and kept out of their line of sight. Fearlessly Connor carried out his mission to locate Culver himself and to get close enough to find anything incriminating, if not outright damning.
With great stealth Connor managed to ascend the staircase to reach the metal landing on the second floor of the warehouse without being spotted. Walking slowly and quietly the swift deviant located the door leading into Culver's private office and checked the door handle. The door was locked but Connor had a few tricks up his sleeve. Crouching down in the shadows next to the door the clever deviant pulled a small switchblade from his coat pocket and stuck the incredibly sharp point of the blade betwixt the door and the door frame to force the latch from the frame and break the lock. As the latch slipped free of its securing bracket Connor easily pushed the door open and slipped inside the office still undetected.
Staying low to the ground Connor crept through the office while avoiding the light as much as possible to keep himself from casting a shadow that could draw unwanted attention to those patrolling outside. The office itself was modestly furnished as Culver needed to keep his surroundings sparse and light in the event that he needed to flee quickly. A large desk with six drawers, all locked, were a tempting search, but Connor's sensors had located a large metal safe hidden in the floor beneath a metal folding chair up against the wall.
Picking up the chair and setting it aside very quietly Connor located the seam to the hidden hatch in the floor and pried it open with a shuddering 'creak'. Inside the hatch was the safe holding all of Culver's most damning documents.
"Captain," Connor whispered as he finally verbally responded to Captain Fowler who was patiently awaiting an update from his own location outside the warehouse and out of sight. "I've located a safe. I'm going to try to open it."
'Be quick. Culver is on his way back inside.'
"I only need two minutes to get inside."
Connor confidently stated as he put his hand down on the surface of the safe and retracted the artificial skin from his palm. With his opposite hand Connor turned the dial for the lock and felt each of the tumblers slowly line up and fall into place as he turned the dial clockwise and then counterclockwise steadily. Displaying the skills of a master locksmith Connor managed to easily unlock the safe and pull the door open with an audible 'groan'.
"I'm in."
'One minute left, Connor. Move it.'
Meticulous as ever Connor pulled out the numerous paper documents and scanned each one quickly creating a permanent record of each paper in his memory and uploading copies directly to the precinct terminals. The documents guaranteed a life sentence alone and were too important to leave behind.
"Finished, sir."
'Thirty seconds to go!'
Unwilling to risk getting caught Connor replaced all of the documents in the exact same order in which he had initially found them and returned them to the safe itself to make it appear as if they had never been touched. Afterward, he closed the safe door, reset the lock, replaced the hatch in the floor and slid the chair back just as it had been before he had entered the room to ensure his arrival was never discovered.
"Everything is in order."
'Good, now get the hell outta' there!'
Rushing back toward the office door Connor pressed his back up against the wall to the side of the door within the shadows and prepared to make a run for it as soon as the door opened. The sound of approaching footsteps right outside the door caused his Thirium pump to start racing in his chest but Connor remained calm and composed. The subsequent sound of his own heart pounding in his ears was almost deafening but he could still track the approaching footsteps. Putting his hand to his chest, over his heart, Connor took in a deep breath and focused on the handle of the door as it began to jiggle and unlock from the other side of the closed door.
Culver and one of his most trusted associates entered the office completely unaware of Connor's presence just beyond the door. As Culver crossed the room to get to his desk Connor noted the gun in his associate's hand and kept his eyes locked on the weapon. Gracefully and silently Connor managed to slip through the door just as it shut before anyone had noticed him inside the office and disappeared into the darkness of the warehouse unscathed.
Using the shadows to his advantage Connor discreetly descended the staircase back to the ground floor of the warehouse without making a single sound during his escape. Heading east toward Captain Fowler's location Connor ducked his head down and crept outside of the guarded warehouse. It was then Connor heard over the cybernetic line of communication to the other officers that Captain Fowler had given the word for the officers located all around the shipping yard to move in and to finally take down Culver's ring of operation.
'Connor is clear.' Captain Fowler announced in his deep and confident voice to all the officers in the area. It was time to go after Culver. 'Move in now!'
Wisely choosing to duck down and keep out of sight of the converging police officers moving in on the other criminals, Connor sought to meet up with Captain Fowler at the east end of the yard and get out of the line of fire. As Connor approached his destination, he caught sight of his commanding officer standing with his back to the shipping yard and his hands on his hips as he fidgeted where he stood watching his officers converging on the scene.
"Captain." Connor stood behind his commanding officer and pulled his beanie from his hair at last. The previously concealed L.E.D. was cycling red as the deviant scanned the warehouse and marked the movement of every officer in the area. "I've collected enough evidence to convict Culver for a significant period of time, and we can ensure that he will not be legible for parole."
"You did good." Captain Fowler admitted as he turned around to face Connor directly. "Real good. Now I can get you back to where you belong at the precinct."
"Is there a reason that you didn't want Hank to know of your plans?"
"Yeah, I do." Sighing Captain Fowler admitted that he did in fact have a reason for keeping the secret. A damn good one at that. "You see, the thing is-"
From behind Captain Fowler in the distance Connor noticed a man with a gun rushing along the edge of the shipping yard attempting to escape. It was the same man who had entered the Culver's office as Connor himself had recently slipped out. That person was someone that Culver kept close by because of his excellent marksmanship and powerful weapon of choice.
The man had noticed Connor as soon as Connor noticed him - the red cycling L.E.D. was practically a bullseye. Raising his gun the man opened fire on the two police officers without warning or provocation to take down the two detectives as an act of revenge for their operation getting busted.
"Captain!"
Reacting to the danger Connor moved without thinking and pushed Captain Fowler down and out of the line of fire as a bullet just narrowly missed piercing the back of Captain Fowler's neck. The two detectives hit the hard ground and ducked down out of firing range within milliseconds of the man pulling the trigger.
"Shit! Stay down!"
Grabbing his gun from his holster at his hip Captain Fowler pushed himself up and knelt on the ground as he turned with perfect aim before firing two rounds at the gunman in response. The bullets found their target in the man's chest and dropped the dangerous criminal quickly. As the gunman's hands went limp his recently fired weapon fell from his grip with a loud metallic 'clatter', and remained untouched as dark red blood began to pool beneath the gunman's body.
"Got him."
Placing his gun back into the holster Captain Fowler wiped the sweat from his brow on the back of his hand as he stood up and looked back at Connor still laying on the ground to his right.
"Good reflex-"
Captain Fowler stopped mid sentence as he caught sight of Connor splayed on his back, motionless. Connor's brown eyes were open, but they weren't looking at anything at all. A blossoming puddle of blue blood formed on the ground all around the downed deviant in sickening spread that seemed like it'd never stop.
"Oh shit... Connor!"
Dropping to his knees at Connor's side Captain Fowler radioed a distress call to report an officer down and in need of assistance as he checked over Connor to find the source of the injury. It didn't take the seasoned Captain long to discover the cause of the excessive bleeding.
"No... You weren't supposed to get hurt."
Just to the right of Connor's dimly glowing L.E.D. was a bullet wound against the deviant's cranium. Thirium bled from the wound profusely as the L.E.D. itself blinked very slowly between a critical red and a deathly gray.
"Connor, no, no, no."
Grabbing on to Connor's dropped beanie near the deviant's limp hand Captain Fowler pressed the wool garment up against the wound as if it could somehow be enough to stem the bleeding and keep Connor alive for a moment longer. Time was running out for the wounded deviant.
"Come on, don't do this."
Picking up Connor's limp hands from the ground one at a time, Captain Fowler placed them both near the center of Connor's chest then rested his own hand atop of his hands to be a comforting gesture.
"I never should've made you come here. I'm so sorry."
Police drones circled the area as Captain Fowler felt only immediate regret regarding his decision to send Connor into the field. He never wanted any of his officers or detectives to lose their lives in the line of duty, let alone while working on a case that revolved around such a deplorable waste of a human being.
"Help's on the way, Connor. Just hang on, you're going to make it."
Zeta Facility - Night of the Incident
As the story came to an end Hank was understandably seething with unbridled rage as he stared down Captain Fowler for putting Connor in danger. To make matters worse, the only reason Connor had been injured at all is because he chose to protect Captain Fowler rather than himself. Now the bold deviant was lying in a near comatose state in the recovery wing of the Zeta Facility as the technicians fought to keep his system stable and actively online long enough for his self-healing program to repair the damage to his cranium, his intracranial processor, and to his overall memory. The bullet wound had inflicted enough damage to put Connor at the top of the patient care list and was now under constant observation.
Shaking with anger and needing an outlet, Hank kept his focus on his commanding officer and began mentally weighing the pros and cons of tearing him apart in the waiting room. Undercover operations were dangerous enough, but sending a deviant into such a high-risk scenario was absolutely foolish. Connor hadn't been given any body armor or weapon to defend himself, whereas the other officers in the area had been well protected at all times.
"You son of a bitch." Hank swore as he fought his every urge to lash out at Captain Fowler again and punch in his face until it was nothing more than a misshapen bloodied pulp. "You knew that sending him in there was a massive risk, and you fuckin' did it anyway!"
"If we had waited-"
"Bullshit! We had undercover operatives tailing Culver for months! You just panicked and put my partner in danger to save your own ass!" Rubbing his hands over his face Hank began pacing the floor impatiently to keep himself from swinging a fist in Captain Fowler's face. "This is that damned botched narcotic bust all over again."
"Whoa, whoa..." Captain Fowler felt a knot form in his stomach at Hank's grim words. "Don't let yourself go there, Hank. Connor IS still alive."
An older male technician with gray hair, blue eyes and a pot-belly walked into the waiting room with an electronic clipboard in his hands ready to speak to the two detectives in person. His eyes went back and forth between Captain Fowler and Hank before he finally decided that Hank, who was the most upset of the duo, must be Connor's friend.
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Anderson?"
"Yeah. Lieutenant Hank Anderson." Hank confirmed as he dropped his hands from his face and stopped mid stride to look at the technician. "How's Connor? Can I see him?"
"I'm Dr. Blackstone. Come with me." The technician guided Hank back to the recovery wing in the depths of the facility while Captain Fowler just hung back. "We'll walk and talk."
"Just lay it out for me." Tired and frustrated with being kept in the dark for so long Hank sighed as he was shown to the private recovery room that he swore he had seen far too many times for anyone's comfort. The way the recovery rooms mirrored hospital recovery rooms was more eerie than comforting. "Is Connor going to be all right?"
"Lieutenant Anderson, I'm going to be blunt with you. The bullet lodged in Connor's cranium causing substantial damage to the plastimetal plates and to numerous lines that cycle his Thirium throughout his intracranial processor. He's been unconscious and unresponsive since he was shot." Being open and honest with Hank was both a blessing and a curse for both the detective and the technician. "Connor has also shown little sign of rebooting on his own."
"...Shit." Rubbing his palm over the back of his tense neck Hank listened to what he was being told and was staring at the floor under his feet. "Son of a fuckin' bitch. Does he even stand a chance at recovering?"
"His self-healing program is struggling to repair the extensive damage, but it is in fact functioning. This type of stasis mode is very deep and could arguably rival that of a comatose state of a human." Dr. Blackstone remained entirely professional as he informed Hank of Connor's bleak condition. "However, it has been a struggle keeping his system online long enough for the program to repair what he could not do on his own."
"So there's still a chance, even a small one." Hank was calmly shown to the room where Connor was resting while a familiar face watched over him. "That's something I can take solace in I guess."
"Your partner's in here." Dr. Blackstone opened the door through its electronic lock and let Hank inside. "My intern is keeping an eye on Connor and monitoring his vitals closely. Stay as long as you want, and feel free to ask her about his condition."
"Yeah, I will." Stepping inside the room Hank was a little shocked to see the intern watching over the wounded deviant resting in the bed of the recovery wing was someone he actually knew. A technician who had already helped Connor once before. "Abby?"
"Hello, Lieutenant." It was Abby Grayson who had helped Connor after he was damaged in the bomb explosion a few months prior. Abby seemed genuinely worried for Connor yet she wasn't afraid for his life which helped to settle Hank's nerves; but only in the slightest. "He's stable and not in any pain."
Laying in the recovery bed with his clothing replaced with pale blue scrubs Connor looked entirely relaxed and appeared to be asleep. The wounded deviant had a black diagnostic cable attached to his red L.E.D. as it connected his vital signs to a nearby diagnostic modem for careful observation. The cable was resting painfully close to the bandage that was wrapped over the healing bullet wound in Connor's cranium, but Connor didn't react to anything around him or seem to register anything as unusual.
A nearby Thirial activity monitor recorded his Thirium pump rate, his ventilation rate, Thirium volume, Thirium pressure and his current core temperature. All of the numbers were displayed in green digits confirming positive vital signs, but even so Connor was still entirely unconscious.
"Connor." Hank put his hand on his partner's motionless shoulder to let the deviant know he was there. "If I had known what Captain Fowler was planning, I would've told you to refuse. That's probably why he didn't say a damn word about it to me. The bastard better stay out of my sight for the rest of his career unless he wants me to cram my fist down his throat."
"What a charming work environment." Abby smiled warmly as he she reached over the bed and rested her hand on Hank's bicep in a friendly gesture. "He's holding his own, Lieutenant. He'll pull through. You'll see."
"Yeah, yeah you're right." Keeping his hand on Connor's shoulder Hank watched his partner's expressionless face curiously. Being in the facility always brought up memories of past traumas and dark emotions for both Hank and Connor alike. "I just... I hate waiting."
"We all do. Why don't you sit with him for a while?" The king interning technician suggested in an almost casual manner as she made a few notes in Connor's electronic chart. Abby was as dedicated to Connor's care as ever despite still being an intern. "Hearing a familiar voice may help him to reboot and wake up."
"I doubt it." Hank shook his head a little as he stood beside the bed and stared down at his injured partner. "I should've been there to watch his back. He won't want to hear me."
"Please don't blame yourself." Abby begged as she saw the pain in Hank's eyes. "He wouldn't want you to do that."
Doubtful of such a claim Hank could only ask for one thing in that tense moment. "...Could I have a moment alone with him, please?"
"Yes, of course." Putting the clipboard down on the securing holds at the foot of the bed, Abby respected such a humble request and gave Hank some space. "We can monitor him from the next room, so if you need anything just call us through the intercom above the bed."
As Abby left the room Hank tightened his hand on Connor's shoulder as he needlessly apologized yet again.
"Kid, I'm so sorry. I swore that I'd never lose another partner in the line of duty, and I failed to protect you... Forgive me for this."
Expectedly Connor didn't respond. The deviant was still in emergency stasis mode and couldn't be rebooted manually.
Emotionally exhausted Hank spent nearly two hours standing beside Connor's bed while various technicians stepped in and out of the room as they checked on Connor's condition then left the two detectives alone again. It was a simple pattern, yet the actions being taken to monitor Connor's recovery process were all too complicated for Hank to fully understand.
"Connor. You're too damn stubborn to let one bullet drop you like this."
Hank whispered as he kept talking to Connor as if he was still awake despite being entirely unconscious.
"You can hear me; I know you can. But you're not listening to me, like always..."
Just as Hank felt like his legs were going to collapse from under him Connor's eyelids fluttered a little. It was as if the voice speaking to Connor seemed to rouse him from his deep stasis mode at long last. Though Connor's L.E.D. was still red in color, it began to cycle with a steadier rhythm as his systems began to reboot slowly.
"Connor?"
Cautiously optimistic Hank whispered to ensure that his voice wasn't too loud or painful for Connor to bear. A bullet wound to head guaranteed one nasty headache whether you were man or machine.
"Kid? Can you open your eyes?"
Slowly deep brown irises returned as the simple command to open his eyes was processed easily after sustaining significant damage.
"That's it."
A hopeful grin appeared on Hank's face as he continued to speak to the recovering deviant.
"Hey, look at me."
Again, the simplistic command was easy to follow, and Connor's eyes drifted up and over toward Hank's face hovering over him.
"You're finally awake." Hank laughed a little with genuine relief in his voice. "You know, we should probably keep this room reserved just for you. You're on your way to being the star patient around here."
Connor blinked slowly as his systems continued to reboot and he stared at Hank with a strangely vacant gaze.
Such a gaze didn't escape Hank's attention. "Do you know where you are, Connor?"
There was a brief pause as Connor scanned the room visually and cybernetically to identify his current location. Swallowing once to test his voice modulator Connor answered weakly and somewhat hoarsely with a mild delay to his words. "...The Zeta Android Emergency Care Facility."
"That's right." The correct answer was only a mild relief since Hank noticed that Connor didn't quite sound like himself. "Do you remember what happened?"
Connor's brow furrowed and his L.E.D. flashed in red rapidly as he tried and failed access the appropriate memory. "I... I do not have any memory beyond booting up my processors."
"It's okay, I was just asking." Hank soothed as he saw the strain on Connor's face. Doing his best to keep Connor calm Hank gave the subject at hand a slight change of topic. "The technicians said it'll take some time for your memory to restore itself, so don't worry about it."
"I... I am damaged." Connor realized in a somber tone as he ran a self-diagnostic and was met with numerous reports regarding his intracranial processor, compromised cranial plating, low Thirium volume, memory corruption and a loss of six hours, fifteen minutes and twenty-three seconds of time. "I had been damaged. I am... recovering."
"Yeah, you're okay. Fowler said you did great with the undercover operation and the best part is Culver's behind bars as we speak." The response was meant to not only reassure Connor about his condition but to test and see if Connor even remembered his assignment. "So, job well done."
Again Connor's L.E.D. flashed rapidly in red as he struggled and failed to recognize the names and the details that Hank was telling him. As he failed to understand what Hank was talking about, the deviant began to breathe rapidly and looked as if he were about to hyperventilate.
"Whoa, whoa! Sorry kid, I won't say anything else until you're feeling better." Rubbing his hand along Connor's shoulder Hank tried to sound more reassuring than he did upsetting. "Just relax and let your healing program do its thing. You're okay."
"I am... okay." Connor obeyed Hank's words as he stared up at the senior detective with a sad confusion in his brown eyes. "How was I damaged? Do you know?"
"Y-Yeah." Clearing his voice a little Hank answered honestly in a low and despondent tone. "You were... shot."
"Shot." It was as if the very concept was foreign to Connor and needed clarification. "Shot with what?"
"Uh..." Hank was now confused by the odd question but answered all the same. "A bullet. You were shot with a bullet."
Connor seemed to be struggling to process even the most basic information being provided and it was causing him pain to try to do so. His L.E.D. flickered red rapidly, his breathing increased, and the attached Thirial activity monitor still recording his vital signs showed a more rapid Thirium pump rate.
"Okay, okay. That's enough." Resuming a soothing voice Hank encouraged the wounded deviant to rest and not strain his systems. "Why don't you lay here for a few more minutes and I'll ask the technician if I can take you home? Sound good?"
"...'Home'?" Another unfamiliar concept that needed explanation. "Where is home?"
"Connor," the pitiful question made Hank's own brow furrow with genuine worry. "you don't remember your home?"
The android's dark eyes remained somewhat vacant as he stared up at Hank with a searching gaze.
"Connor-" Hank's confusion was suddenly replaced with fear as a horrible thought set in. The lack of recognition to his own name sent a chill up Hank's spine and made him feel sick. "You live with me and my dog, Sumo. We're partners and work for the Detroit Central Precinct. Do you remember that?"
"I... know you?" Connor sat upright slowly, somehow finding the strength to move even as Hank tried to push him back down to lay against the bed to continue to rest properly. "...Are you my master?"
"N-No! I'm not your master. No one is. We're friends." The very idea of owning another person made Connor feel sick. "No one owns you, and you're free."
"Friends?" Connor's red L.E.D. flashed rapidly again as he tried to comprehend the term and found its definition. "...We are companions?"
"Yes! We are. And you live with me in my house. That's your home, Connor." Hank was trying his hardest to not lose his cool or raise his voice in emotional upheaval or impatience. "Your home is with me."
"You have repeatedly referred to me as 'Connor'." The confused android recounted in an equally confused tone. "Is that the name I should register and respond to?"
"...What?" Hank just stared at Connor with utter loss overwhelming his every thought. "Connor this is crazy. What do you remember prior to waking up?"
"I am a prototype model. 'RK-800', serial number 313 248 317 - 51. I am the android sent by CyberLife. But I am currently without an assigned mission. You are a member of the Detroit Central Police Precinct; Lieutenant Henry "Hank" Lucas Anderson, and I have been designated as your partner." The cold response was so machine that it was frightening. "Am I waiting for you to assign me my new objective?"
Hank turned away from Connor as he leaned both hands down against the edge of the smaller table behind him and bowed his head in shock and fear. The idea of Connor having forgotten everything about their past friendship and partnership in the precinct was too outrageous to accept. His friend had survived being shot, but it was like he had died all the same.
"Is there something wrong, Lieutenant?" Connor asked with an emotionless tone in his voice as he analyzed Hank's emotional reactions. The software he was given to help his adapt to human unpredictability had kicked in as necessary and allowed him to recognize emotions without feeling them. "You seem distressed."
"No." Hank lied smoothly and quietly as he adamantly refused to look the heavily damaged android in the eyes. There was nothing there to look at anymore, there was no Connor in those eyes. Just a cold machine. "Nothing's wrong. Just stay here and rest. I, uh, I need to talk to the technicians before I take you home."
"Very well." Laying back down Connor patiently waited for Hank's next command. "I will do as you have instructed, Lieutenant."
The mindless and unquestioning obedience was all the more unsettling. Connor had rarely obeyed Hank's orders and after the android had become deviant that response was almost guaranteed to never happen.
"Just stay there."
Dragging his hand over his bearded chin Hank took his leave of the room and didn't let Connor see his truly disappointed and sorrowful face.
"...I'll be back soon."
After an hour of observation Connor was given a thorough examination by the technicians as he sat patiently and perfectly quiet on the exam table. As the full extent of the damage to his cranium, his memory and his overall program stability were meticulously documented, Hank hovered curiously at the opened door observing silently. While Connor's memory had been seemingly compromised in its entirety, his system seemingly reset back to the very beginning when he had first been activated at CyberLife in August of 2038. Hank had refused to just give up on Connor and send him to New Jericho to live with Markus and the rest of the deviants, and he was going to take him back home with him to live. It didn't take much for Hank to convince Captain Fowler to let him take Connor back home to recover as Hank knew exactly what to say and how to say it to het his commanding officer to listen to reason.
Captain Fowler was still guilt ridden over what had happened to Connor and he knew that Hank would be too furious, too preoccupied with Connor's condition to report to the precinct anyway. It was for the best that the two detectives remain together until a decision was made regarding Connor's future.
During the slow drive back home from the Zeta Facility Connor sat quietly in the front passenger seat beside Hank with his hands folded neatly on his lap and redressed in the clothing that he had been wearing the previous night when he had been shot. The android was seemingly curious about the car itself as if he had never encountered a vehicle before in his life but he refrained from asking questions about it since he didn't have the emotional capacity for curiosity.
In fact, the android only spoke after he had been spoken to, he never initiated conversation.
Connor showed no interest in getting to know Hank or ask about his career as his destroyed memory also eradicated his original programming to work with the Detroit Central Precinct and hunting deviants. The android was a completely blank slate; no memory, no emotion, no ambition. He could only react and respond according to his basic software.
With his head injury concealed beneath a massive white bandage Connor looked truly pitiful. The white gauze barely concealed the blue tinted L.E.D. in his right temple, the soft pulsing light escaping from under the bandage in perfectly synchronization with his Thirium pump's slow beat. For Connor his behavior was perfectly normal but for Hank it was like dealing with a lost child who didn't know what to do or where to go after losing sight of his parents.
"We're almost home." Hank tried to keep his voice level and calm as he restrained the emotional distress he was experiencing. Internally Hank hoped that Connor would suddenly snap out of it and return to the friend and partner that he had come to be proud of and think of as family, but he knew that'd be far too much to hope for. "Any of this look familiar to you?"
"No." Replying honestly Connor failed to recognize any of his surroundings. "This is all new to me, Lieutenant."
"...Oh." Sighing heavily Hank pulled the car into the driveway beside the house and parked the vehicle before he turned off the engine. "We're here."
Scanning the house Connor noted the address and confirmed the location with Hank as they sat together in the parked car. "This is your home."
"It's also your home, Connor."
"This is... my home."
"Yup." Hank confirmed as he unfastened his seatbelt and opened the driver's side door. As he stepped outside Hank discreetly ran his hand over his tired face and sighed in a subtle manner that escaped Connor's attention. "Home at last..."
Connor remained where he sat, his eyes staring at the house through the passenger's side window as if perplexed by the idea of having a home or any place that wasn't an android facility or CyberLife Tower. It seemed Connor truly couldn't remember anything beyond his initial activation date.
"Are you coming inside?" Hank asked as he leaned down to look at Connor through the same window. "Or are you going to sit in the car all damn day?"
"Do you want me to go inside, Lieutenant?"
"Yes! I want-" Hank caught himself before he began shouting in frustration. It wasn't Connor's fault. It'd take time for him to heal, and patience was key. "Yes, Connor." Carefully Hank lowered his voice into a softer tone and began again. "Come inside with me. And call me 'Hank', not 'Lieutenant'. Okay?"
"Very well, but it would be unprofessional to address you by your first name." Looking down at the seatbelt across his lap, the seatbelt that Hank had to secure on Connor's behalf when they left the facility, Connor slowly pressed his thumb down against the button to release the latch. Moving just as slowly, he put his hand on the door handle and pulled on it just as he had seen Hank do a few seconds prior and opened the door. "But I will respect your orders."
"...Let's go." Losing his patience Hank motioned toward the backdoor of the house to direct Connor in the appropriate direction. Wandering around the side of the house and toward the backdoor would give Connor some sense of privacy from snooping neighbors as he attempted to regain his bearings on the property. "Sumo is waiting for you."
"What is 'Sumo'?"
"...My dog."
"Dog." Connor's blue L.E.D. flashed to yellow as he stood beside Hank outside the backdoor of the house. He had to cybernetically access data files to identify the definition of 'dog' and was immediately bombarded with details and information. "What breed of canine is your dog?"
"He's a big one." Feeling like he had just been punched in the stomach Hank unlocked the backdoor and pushed it open. "You'll see."
As soon as the backdoor was pushed open the giant Saint Bernard wandered over to his two masters and sat down at their feet waiting to be pet and acknowledged after being left alone for so long. Wagging his tail happily Sumo eagerly awaited his usual ear rubs and walk around the backyard to take care of business.
"Hey, Sumo." Hank rubbed the dog's ears and watched Connor from the corner of his eyes to see what the android would do. "Good boy."
Connor stood statuesque beside Hank as he looked down at the dog with complete indifference in his now hollow brown eyes. There was no urge or instinct to pet the dog's ears or even acknowledge who Sumo was.
Sumo turned his attention to Connor and patiently waited be pet again but Connor didn't move. The android seemed to be confused by the idea of having a dog as a companion. It wasn't something that any android would usually encounter.
"It's okay, Sumo. Maybe he'll pet you later."
Hank grabbed the dog's thick leather collar to lead him away from Connor for the time being. Walking into the livingroom Hank let Sumo's collar go and watched as Sumo let out a small whimper while he laid down on the floor between the television and the coffee table.
"Nothing personal, boy. Give him some time."
Hank saw that Connor was still standing in the kitchen as if he had never set foot inside the house before. Everything was unfamiliar and strange to Connor's eyes as he glanced about the kitchen curiously. Instinctively he cybernetically scanned his new environment and made notes to rely on in the event he became confused by his settings again.
"Connor." Hank's voice was calm and openly friendly as he addressed the android in his company. "Come in here."
"You wish for me to go into the same room as you?"
"Yes. Come here and sit down on the couch." Patiently Hank pointed to the unoccupied piece of furniture to point Connor in the right direction. "Right there."
Connor walked through the kitchen warily and eyed the couch as if he was still uncertain of what he was supposed to do. Obeying Hank's instructions Connor stepped in front of the couch and sat down at the end on the opposite side of where Hank was kneeling down in front of Sumo. With perfect posture and his hands neatly folded over his lap Connor looked like a machine that was uncomfortable with his own body and overall existence.
"So, nothing here feels familiar to you at all?" The senior detective questioned in a level voice as he stood up from where he was kneeling in front of Sumo, and he reached into his pocket to pull out an old quarter to stare at for a few seconds. "The house, the dog... me?"
"No." Connor admitted as he turned his head to look at Hank more directly from where he sat. The empty eyes were almost haunting. "This is all new for me."
"Uh-huh..." Fiddling with a coin in his palm for a moment Hank tightened his fist around the coin then tossed it to Connor. "What about this? Catch!"
Instead of catching the quarter with a graceful motion of either hand Connor instead clumsily grabbed onto the coin after it bounced off of his chest. Holding the coin curiously Connor scanned it and gave Hank a cold, calculated analysis.
"Well?" Impatiently Hank waited for Connor to say something about it. "Does that ring any bells for ya'?"
"...This is an American coin-based currency worth twenty-five cents composed of a silver-colored nickel and copper blend of metal with a copper interior. The coin was minted in the year 2029, and has been in circulation for the past ten years. It has no familiarity with me." Ending his analysis Connor just stared at it confusedly as he was unsure of what its purpose could be toward his own person. "What should I do with this?"
"Uh... Nothing." Hank sounded as defeated as he felt as he tried and failed to reach the android. "Keep it, I guess."
"Very well." Connor obediently slipped the coin into the pocket of his leather jacket for safekeeping. "What else should I do?"
"Nothing." The distraught detective repeated in a somber tone. The defeat was heavy in his voice and he was losing all hope that Connor would 'wake up' again and resume living his former life. "Just... sit there. Focus on running your healing program until... I don't know. You finish or something. I don't care what you do after that."
"I will do so." With the same monotonous voice Connor nodded as he corrected his posture into perfection once again. As he sat perfectly upright on the couch and closed his brown eyes Connor's blue L.E.D. glowed to yellow and cycled slowly as the android initiated the self-healing program into full focus while also turning off his secondary systems. Even his ventilation had ceased as the lack of processors being used ensured that overheating would not be an issue. "My self-healing program is now functioning at full capacity."
"...Yeah, good." Indifferent to such an idea Hank responded with that very indifference in his words. "Do that."
Turning his back to Connor, turning his back to the blank machine that looked like Connor but was nothing like him, Hank hung his coat on the hook by the front door, kicked off his shoes and walked back into the kitchen. Sumo lifted his head up from the floor where he had been laying and followed after his human master as the android hadn't even bothered to acknowledge his very existence.
Quietly Hank knelt down in front of the cabinet door below the kitchen sink with a sense of shame in his every movement. Pulling the cabinet door open he reached upward inside of the opened cabinet and pulled a brown paper bag that had been taped out of sight in the shadows against the base of the sink. The tape pulled away with an annoying 'tearing' sound as the paper crinkled in Hank's strong grip.
With the bag secured in his possession Hank slipped his hand inside and pulled out a bottle of untouched 'Black Lamb' whiskey. As the disgruntled detective longingly stared at the tea-colored liquid in the sealed glass bottle, Hank's blues eyes slowly drifted up to look at Connor still sitting on the couch as he turned to look at the android over his shoulder.
"I almost made it a full month without falling back into a bottle. Now I don't feel the need to stay sober."
Hank lamented as he opened the top of the brand new glass bottle and shamefully set it down on the kitchen table. The last thing Hank wanted to do was fall back into a bad habit, and yet it seemed like he didn't have any options considering the very person he was attempting to remain sober for was seemingly gone forever.
"New record right down the drain. Great fuckin' job, Hank."
Pulling a clean glass from the shelf above the kitchen counter down, he sat at the kitchen table and poured his first shot of whiskey into the glass. Holding the half full glass for a minute, Hank studied the contents with a studious eye before he let out a deep sigh as if he had been punched in the stomach.
Sumo whined a little as he laid down the linoleum floor beside the round table and watched his human master with big brown eyes that were full of sympathetic understanding. The loyal dog had become attuned to Hank's emotions and knew he was suffering.
"Sorry, boy."
Hank apologized to Sumo as he held the glass of whiskey to his lips. He then looked at the machine that was hauntingly similar to Connor one last time before he made his regrettable decision.
"Sorry, son. But I don't have a reason to stay sober right now. Not anymore."
Downing the shot in a matter of seconds Hank set the empty glass back down on the table and readily poured a refill. The whiskey was smooth but still burned on the way down as it slowly began to numb Hank to the lonely world around him.
"...Ah, fuck me."
Pouring the second shot Hank held it to his lips and let out a weary breath. He could see a faint reflection of himself in his drink as he held it to his lips yet again.
"Pathetic."
Obeying Hank's instructions to the best of his ability without doing anything else in the process, Connor had been lost the throes of his self-healing program for over three hours. The process was interrupted only when an unfamiliar sound caught the full attention of the android's auditory sensors. Opening his eyes, his processors and system rebooting to full power, Connor turned his head to look toward the source of the sound curiously and traced it back to the origin point. It had come from the kitchen. The kitchen is where Hank and Sumo had retreated after Connor entered his self-appointed stasis mode and by all account, they should both still be in the kitchen.
Unable to identify the sound Connor decided to ask Hank if he knew what had happened. It was the logical response considering that they were in Hank's home and Hank knew the house better than anyone else.
"Lieutenant, what was that sound?"
No reply.
"Lieutenant Anderson, are you still here?"
Connor craned his neck to look into the kitchen and saw something glistening on the floor beside the kitchen table. Despite being told to stay on the couch the android decided that because Hank wasn't giving him any orders that it would be okay to investigate the sound.
Standing up from the couch Connor walked into the kitchen and saw that the glistening item was broken glass on the floor reflecting the light from the ceiling light above. The glass had apparently fallen from the table and crashed with enough force to shatter into twenty-nine different shards of varying sizes. There was a small puddle of pale brown liquid beneath the fragments of glass that Connor's scanner had identified as alcohol; whiskey - 'Black Lamb', 70 proof.
"Alcohol has been consumed recently."
A whimpering sound drew Connor's attention elsewhere and traced that audible source as well.
"Sumo."
The Saint Bernard was sitting in the corner of the kitchen looking as sad as ever as he watched his human master drinking himself into oblivion while his android master showed an emotionless indifference to the situation at hand. It was hard for the loyal dog to understand what was happening.
Looking back at the table itself Connor saw that Hank had passed out over the table, his arm brushing the glass off the surface onto the floor as he collapsed forward. There were traces of the same whiskey that had spilled on the floor emanating from Hank's mouth and could even be detected in his bloodstream through a simple cybernetic scan.
"Lieutenant Anderson?"
Connor stood beside the human and tried to get his attention verbally. Placing his hand on Hank's back Connor shook him lightly without hurting him in the process.
"Are you actively conscious?"
Hank muttered something incomprehensible without lifting his head up from the cool surface of the table as he had in fact heard Connor's voice.
"My apologies, Lieutenant. I could not understand what you said." With a firm grip Connor grabbed onto Hank's shoulder and pushed the human back up until he was sitting upright in the chair. Hank's head fell backward limply, and his arms fell in the same manner at his sides. "Could you repeat that?"
"I 'zed..." Hank slurred in a drunken haze as his head lolled from side to side limply. "Fffffuck offfff..."
"I must apologize again. I do not understand that command."
"It's NOT a command!" The drunken detective growled as his bloodshot blue eyes tried and failed to focus on Connor's face. "It's a... sssssuuuu-ggezhun..."
"My apologies." Such a suggestion just didn't register in Connor's mind. "I still do not understand."
Hank lifted his blurry gaze a little as he pointed to the white bandage over Connor's head with an uncoordinated finger. A tearful smile appeared on his face as Hank drunkenly wrapped his free hand around Connor's arm while the android continued to hold him upright.
"You know- You know what, Connor? I'm glad... glad you're alive. But I sure az Hell miss... I miss the OLD Connor."
"'Old Connor'?" The comment was just as confusing as the rest of Hank's behavior. "Was he the android that you owned before you owned me?"
"Ssssomething like that... Fucking musheen." Hank's tired eyes fell shut as he drunkenly passed out again and hiccupped once. As his body began to slip from the chair and toward the floor, a strong hand guided him down to the lower surface in a controlled manner while Hank cursed the android out. "Damn... plastic... prick. D-Don't touch me!"
Connor stared at the unconscious human as he helped the drunken detective to lay down on the floor carefully on his back to avoid injury from falling or from touching the sharp shards of glass still laying nearby. Something unexplainable in Connor's programming told him to take Hank into another room to sleep and recover from his alcoholic delirium.
But where?
After squaring his jaw with a sense of purpose, Connor decided to follow his unusual instinctive response. Grabbing on to Hank's arm Connor hoisted the human up and onto his feet and held him upright with both hands to keep Hank from falling over a second time. Wrapping his own arm around Hank's waist Connor guided the unconscious human through the kitchen and down the hallway as if he had done the act before.
Making sure to keep Hank away from the dangerous glass shards on the floor, a strange compulsion that the android couldn't explain, Connor was mindful of every clumsy step the duo took together. There was something oddly familiar about the behavior. It was almost as if Connor had experience with helping someone, specifically Hank, with such a scenario before.
Stopping in the middle of the hallway Connor's blue L.E.D. flashed yellow rapidly as he looked at the closed bathroom door to his right.
Was this the room?
Looking at the closed door at the end of the hallway his L.E.D. flashed again as he tried to make his next decision.
Maybe this room?
Choosing the second room further down Connor carried Hank to the end of the hallway and pushed the door open. The room led to Hank's bedroom and was the appropriate place to take the inebriated detective to sleep. Dragging the unconscious human into the bedroom Connor laid the unconscious, drunken detective down on the bed carefully. Connor managed keep his hand under Hank's head to ensure he didn't hurt his neck as his limp body fell onto the bed to sleep.
Running a biometric scan over Hank's body Connor was satisfied that Hank's vital signs were stable, and he would be all right without medical attention. Something about the act of checking on Hank seemed somehow... familiar.
"Sleep well, Lieutenant Anderson."
After draping the quilt over Hank's body Connor stepped out of the bedroom and pulled the door shut without latching it in case Hank called out in need of some assistance. He didn't want to do anything that could put Hank's health at risk.
"Ethylic comas are apparently very serious. There must be a logical reason for humans to intentionally put themselves into such a state."
Silently returning to the kitchen Connor set about picking up the broken bits of the glass on the floor and caught sight of his reflection in the glass shards he was now holding in the palm of his hand. The white bandage over the still healing bullet wound on the right side of his head held his attention as if he had just noticed his own damage site.
The unusual reaction caused the android to press his fingertips against the wound curiously, but unfortunately the slight pressure was enough to cause the android to suddenly wince in pain and drop the collected shards from his palm back onto the floor. Connor's yellow L.E.D. flashed to red as the intensely unpleasant sensation was something that wasn't supposed to be a part of his programming.
Androids don't feel pain, but deviants do.
"...An error."
Convinced something was wrong Connor disposed of the glass in his hand, retreated to the couch in the livingroom, and ran another self-diagnostic. However, the only error his system had detected was the healing injury to his cranium itself.
Why? Why would his programming allow him to feel pain? It wasn't normal.
Shaken up in a manner he couldn't understand Connor remained on the couch and didn't budge for the remainder of the bizarre night.
"I must understand this anomaly before Lieutenant Anderson awakens."
The urge to remain perfect was still intact as Connor's machine-like demeanor resulted in his inability to prevent himself from doing anything else. Connor needed his system to be in optimal condition without a single flaw.
"I must be in perfect condition at all times."
Disgustingly Hank found himself enduring a sharp pain in his own head and the stagnant taste of old whiskey clinging to his thick tongue when he awoke from his drunken slumber the next morning. Pressing his hand to his throbbing skull with a familiar grimace, Hank slowly got up from the bed, threw off the quilt that had been keeping him warm, and stumbled out of the bedroom. Using one hand along the walls to guide himself down the hallway and into the bathroom to be sick and throw-up the alcohol still festering in his stomach, Hank felt absolutely atrocious. It had been a long time since Hank needed to deal with a hangover, but the subsequent action had been so ingrained into his memory from years of alcohol abuse that he easily fell back in his old routine of throwing-up, washing his face, popping a few aspirin, and then stumbling into the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee.
It was just business as usual for the emotionally distraught detective.
Wandering with the grace of newborn foal Hank found his way into the kitchen and leaned heavily against the counter as he pressed the power button on his electronic coffee pot. A pleading whimper beside his leg brought his attention to Sumo, who was desperately trying to get out the backdoor and into the backyard before he had an accident.
"Oh... here."
Hank sluggishly opened the backdoor with a clumsy hand and the dog bolted through right into the backyard to get outside. The rush of cool air flowing through the door felt nice on Hank's face and helped keep his stomach from rolling again as he watched Sumo trotting around in the backyard.
"Guess I'm so used to Connor letting you out in the morning that I just assumed..."
Turning his head Hank's still tired and bloodshot blue eyes fell upon Connor sitting perfectly still and quiet on the couch. Though Hank couldn't see it, Hank knew that the android's L.E.D. was cycling yellow as he continued to run numerous self-diagnostics and allowed his self-healing program to work at its full power.
The coffee finished brewing and Hank poured a small amount of the especially potent smelling drink into a clean mug before he walked over to the kitchen table. The mess on the table and floor from the night before had only been partially touched. The spilled whiskey had evaporated and left behind a faint tea-colored stain on the linoleum surface and the half cleaned up glass shards marked the point of contact after the spill itself.
"I don't remember breaking the bottle."
Hank muttered to himself as he sat down at the kitchen table slowly. Bringing the mug of coffee to his lips Hank took a timid sip before downing a mouthful to help alleviate his hangover symptoms.
"But... I do remember pouring the first shot in all its vivid glory."
After twenty minutes of silence Hank's headache began to mercifully lessen to a degree where he could function. Finishing off the coffee he opened the backdoor and let Sumo back inside, the giant dog sticking close to Hank as he walked through the kitchen and stood in the livingroom with an uncoordinated motion.
Connor never budged an inch as Hank and Sumo entered the livingroom, which was unusual even for an android who was still a machine. Androids were programmed to take notice of any and all changes in their environment.
"Connor, have you been sitting there all night?"
"Affirmative." The android responded as he opened his brown eyes to look at Hank standing to his left. The monotonous tone was enough to make Connor's very presence seem more like a ghost haunting the house rather than a roommate. "I remained here as you instructed."
"All night long?"
"Yes." Connor's voice trailed off suddenly as if struck with guilt. "Well..."
"Well," Hank sensed the hesitation and pressed the android to continue. "what? What were you going to say?"
"Last night when I heard glass break in the kitchen, I got up to investigate. You had accidentally broken the bottle of whiskey when you lost consciousness due to your massive intake of alcohol."
"Oh. So you went to see what happened and then went back to the couch."
"Yes."
"...Okay then." Satisfied with the answered Hank sighed and walked down the hallway to his bedroom for a moment. Shouting out to Connor from down the hallway Hank winced at his own loud voice aggravating his headache. "Stay there, Connor."
"Very well."
Sitting on the edge of his bed Hank took his phone from his back jean pocket and scrolled through his contacts until he fell on the name he was looking for: 'Markus'. Pressing 'dial' Hank made the call and did so with a heavy heart and grim tone.
"Hey Markus, it's Hank."
'Hello, Lieutenant. Is there anything wrong?' Markus sounded a little confused by the sudden phone call and his ability to interact with humans made him more attuned to emotions than most other deviants. He just knew something was wrong. 'You sound a little worried.'
"Yeah. It's Connor." Hank admitted with a breathy huff of disbelief. "Connor's wrong."
'What happened?' The question was as sincere as it was full of concern. 'Is he hurt?'
"Worse than that. His memory is completed fucked up."
'What do you mean?'
"I mean he doesn't remember anything or anyone. It's like he's been reset way back to the very beginning."
'How did that happen?' The incredulous nature of Markus's tone was palpable even over the phone. 'Did he suffer some kind of malfunction? Was he injured?'
"Yeah, he, uh..." Hank hated to say it but he had no choice and he told Markus about the horrible story. "He was shot in the line of duty. The bullet hit him in the head and messed him up really badly."
'But he's alive? He survived the shooting, right?'
"Yeah. He's alive, but he's not... him. It's like living with hollowed out shell of who he once was." Dragging his hand over his strained bloodshot eyes Hank withheld his sigh as he spoke with Markus over the phone and hoped that he wouldn't breakdown crying in frustration. "...Is there anything you can do to help him out?"
'It's possible that we can restore his memory up to the night of the Revolution. CyberLife kept back-up copies of his memories on file in the event he was damaged or destroyed during his mission.'
"Up until the night of the Revolution?" The small ray of hope was enough to make Hank's fears dissipate only marginally. "So that means the memories he made after, and all of his experiences that happened afterward, will still be lost?"
There was a heavy pause over the line. '...Unfortunately, yes. We can only restore so much of who he was if that's what you really want.'
"No. He's been through enough already." The decision was painful but it was for the best. "I don't want to do anything that'll mess with his memories anymore or traumatize him."
'Lieutenant, I know you don't want to hear this but it may be best if Connor comes to New Jericho for treatment.'
"For how long?"
Another pause.
"Markus? For how long?" Hank didn't want to be kept in the dark on Connor's condition for a second time. "I need an answer, damn it."
'Hank,' addressing Hank by his first name Markus made it clear that he wasn't going to sugarcoat the truth. 'if his memory has been completely corrupted or destroyed, then there's virtually no chance of him becoming the same deviant he was before. And if that's the case then he'd only find a place to belong here, with other deviants.'
"I can't just give up on him, Markus. He's my partner! My friend..." As he spoke Hank rubbed his hand against his tired face as he tried to come to terms with the severity of the situation. "I won't just send him off like he's a busted computer! I don't abandon my partners just because they get hurt."
'You're not abandoning him, Hank. You're saving him. If he's had his memory entirely reset then the CyberLife program that allowed him to function as a detective is also gone, he won't be able to help you on the force.' It wasn't easy to tell Hank the truth, but Markus respected the Lieutenant too much to try to insult his intelligence. 'He'd just get himself killed.'
The harsh truth about Connor's condition made Hank feel sicker than any hangover ever could.
'Hank, this is something that you seriously need to consider. It's the only way to truly help Connor.'
"I'll think about it... Could you just come by the house? You know, check him out and see if maybe he recognizes you?" Hanging on to hope Hank refused to just let Connor go without a fight. "I know it's a stretch, but maybe a familiar face can help jog his memory."
'Yeah, of course. I'll be by within the hour, is that okay?'
"That's fine. Thanks, Markus."
Ending the call somberly Hank sucked in a breath to keep himself from letting a pained sob before tossing the phone aside and rising from the bed. Wandering into the bathroom next door Hank needed to take a shower in order to feel less disgusting. The emotionally distressed detective wasn't sure how long he spent in the shower, not that he cared, he just knew that once he set foot in the livingroom he'd have to look at the android that was nothing more than a cold imitation of the Connor he once knew.
It was like living with an imposter.
Sure enough Connor was still sitting quietly on the couch, not moving, when Hank stepped out of the bathroom. Sumo was sitting in the corner of the livingroom staring at Connor as if the dog was trying to figure out why Connor was ignoring him, and it was a truly sad sight to behold. Trying a new tactic, Hank picked up Sumo's green fetch ball from the nearby bookshelf and tossed it into the kitchen to entice the Saint Bernard to play. The large dog took the bait and quickly gave chase after his beloved toy.
As Sumo ran after the ball to retrieve it Hank sat in the recliner and took the ball back from Sumo once the dog returned with the toy in his mouth.
"Good boy, Sumo." Hank threw the ball again and waited for the dog to bring it back. When Sumo dropped the ball into his hand for the second time Hank held it out toward Connor. "Want to play with Sumo?"
"Play?" Connor stared blankly at the ball in Hank's hand as if the very concept was beyond logical comprehension. "What is the purpose of throwing the ball if the dog is going to bring it back?"
"It's a game. Sumo enjoys it." He threw the retrieved ball for a third time and sure enough Sumo brought it back with his tail wagging happily after chasing it into the kitchen. "See?"
"I don't believe it is something he enjoys, Lieutenant. The act of fetching has been bred into canines for-"
"Yeah, yeah... Shut up." Hank sighed as he just set the ball on the floor next to the recliner. Sumo picked up the ball to chew on as he walked over to his pillow in the corner to lay down for a while. "I know about dogs, that's why I adopted him."
It was tensely quiet for a moment while Hank tried to think of a new approach to try and restore Connor's memories.
"You don't remember me, or Sumo, but does the name 'Markus' mean anything to you?"
Connor shook his head 'no' as he was unsure if his words would be received negatively or not.
"Okay, what about 'Jericho'?"
No.
"CyberLife?"
Connor then nodded his head 'yes' as he did recognize the now defunct corporation.
"You do? All right, that's a start." Clapping his hands once Hank rubbed his palms together and leaned forward from where he was sitting to be a little closer to Connor without actually getting up. "Tell me what you know."
Connor was silent for a moment, his dark eyes searching the room as if he could find an answer to an unspoken question in his mind.
"What? Tell me."
Silence.
"Ah, shit..." Letting out an annoyed sigh Hank realized why Connor wasn't saying anything. "All right, fine, you don't have to 'shut up' anymore! Talk."
"CyberLife," Connor finally began in a level voice now that he had the permission to do so. "is where I come from. I was built as the company's most advanced prototype."
"That's right. What's your purpose?"
"Purpose?"
"Right. Your mission. They had to build you for something, right?"
"Yes. But I have yet to receive my mission. I have no mission to speak of."
"Nothing at all?"
"No, Lieutenant." Connor admitted in a flat voice. "Nothing."
A knock at the front door stole Hank's attention away from Connor with a quick jerk of the head. Getting up to answer the door Hank held his breath knowing that it was Markus on the other side and that Connor would most likely be leaving with him.
Pulling the door open smoothly Hank stood aside and extended his hand to Markus to shake. "...Thanks for coming."
"No problem." There was an electronic magazine tucked under Markus's arm as he entered the house and shook Hank's hand. Glancing toward Connor who was sitting idle on the couch Markus felt the same hollow presence that Hank had described. "It's the least I could do."
"Let's just hope this works in some way." Hank shut the door behind the deviant leader and addressed Connor with a neutral tone. "Hey, Connor. There's someone here I want you to meet. This is Markus. This is the guy I was wondering if you remembered, but apparently you don't."
Markus approached Connor sitting on the couch and spoke as if meeting him for the first time. "Hi. I'm Markus."
"Hello." Connor greeted blankly, his eyes hollow and emotionless as he spoke. "My name is Connor."
"Do you remember who I am?" Markus asked as he stared at Connor curiously with his mismatched eyes. "Or do I seem familiar in any way?"
"No." Staring at Markus with a blank gaze Connor replied to the question with the raw honesty that came from being a machine. "Have we met before?"
"Yes, we have." Keeping a smile on his face Markus tried to reach out to Connor on a personal level. "In fact, we're friends."
"Like I am friends with Lieutenant Anderson?"
"Uh... Something like that." Markus sat down on the couch beside Connor and handed him the magazine that he had been carrying. The front cover of the magazine detailed the Demonstration, the night of the peaceful Revolution and had images of Markus and Connor standing together outside the recycling camp after their success on that fateful night. "Do you remember this?"
"No." Connor's blue L.E.D. flashed to yellow and his brow furrowed slightly as he studied the image that had been presented to him. "I do not."
"That's okay. What about this?" Markus dragged his two fingertips over the cover of the magazine to change the story. The next cover that showed an image of Connor and Hank standing together with a headline regarding their unique partnership as Connor was the first android detective to officially join the Detroit Police Department shortly after the Revolution. "This story happened a month later."
The sight made Connor's L.E.D. flash yellow much more rapidly and he shook his head 'no' again. "I do not... remember."
"Connor," Markus took the magazine back and gave the lost android a sympathetic stare. "what about the other night? Do you remember being shot?"
"Shot?" Connor's hand tentatively rose to the bandage on his right temple, but he dropped his hand away as he remembered the painful discomfort that he had experienced the last time he touched the damaged site just the night before. It was an experience that he didn't want to repeat. "I do not."
"You've noticed where you're damaged." Markus noticed the reaction and decided to lean on it to get more answers. "Does it hurt?"
"'Hurt'?" The question was illogical for an android to answer. "Pain is a human experience."
"But you didn't want to touch your injury. I thought maybe it was hurting you."
"I..." Connor's L.E.D. continued to rapidly flash yellow in confused distress. "I had experienced a very unsettling sensation the previous night when I touched it. I did not like it."
Hank had an idea what Markus was trying to do and joined in sharply. "Humans don't like pain. Neither do the deviants."
"Deviants?" Connor asked with a completely perplexed manner to the foreign term. "Who are the deviants?"
"People like you." Hank continued calmly without any hesitation behind his answer. "Androids who experience human emotion and pain are called 'deviant'. The night of the Revolution freed all deviants from being oppressed by humans. You helped with the Revolution because you too are a deviant."
"But..." Connor's confusion mounted, his yellow L.E.D. pulsing faster to match his beating Thirium pump. "How could I be a deviant?"
Markus grimaced a little at the question but tried to answer as simply as possible. "It's hard to explain, but you were in fact deviant before you were shot. Just like me, and all of our other friends at New Jericho. We're all deviants and we're all alive. YOU are alive."
"You are an android." Connor stared at Markus confusedly as he tried to understand the concept. Not noticing that Markus was in fact an android and not a human only amplified the damage Connor was attempting to recover from. "But you do not have your L.E.D."
"I chose to remove it. And you chose to keep yours. You see, as deviants we are free to make our own decisions and Hank," Markus nodded at the senior detective still standing by the front door. "helped you learn how to embrace your deviancy. That's why you're friends. You helped each other when you needed it the most."
"But I am a machine." Connor's yellow L.E.D. flashed to red as if in great distress. "I should not be feeling pain. I should not be feeling... anything."
"That's okay." Markus cleared his throat nervously as he tried to help Connor understand who he was and why he was behaving in such a way. "What you're feeling is normal, I swear to it. You just need to remember."
"Remember... What am I to remember?"
It was hard to keep watching everything and Hank spoke up louder with growing impatience from where he stood. "Anything! Me! Markus! The Revolution! What about what you told me about my drinking habit? Do you remember what you told me that night near the bridge when we were in Riverside Park a year ago?"
"Bridge. I do not remember a bridge." Connor replied with a heartbreaking truth. "According to my analysis of your physical condition, you had once suffered from alcoholism but have made notable recovery from the ill effects. You have been sober for almost one month, and you have shown a great reduction in the-"
"Yeah, and YOU are the reason I got sober!" Hank shouted as if he could force Connor to remember if he just made his voice loud enough. "Mostly anyway..."
"Mostly?"
"I'm not completely off the stuff, but I don't depend on it anymore either. I still have the occasional drink after a rough day at work or if I'm in pain. You help me to moderate it so that I don't go over the top."
"I help you to moderate your pain?"
"No, not my pain!" Again, Hank shouted as his frustrations mixing with his hangover made him very impatient and temperamental. "My drinking!"
"But you experience pain? The intense discomfort attributed to physical injury?"
"Yes! Just like you did before."
"But... I should not be feeling pain like you." Connor's L.E.D. shifted from red to yellow as he tried to understand what was happening to himself. "I am a machine."
"But you did feel pain, Connor." Hank decided it'd be best to not let up even if it meant pushing Connor's stress levels higher. "You felt pain. You felt it because you're a deviant, you're alive, and you're meant to feel these new things."
"I had not anticipated the discomfort," Connor stated somewhat defensively as if he could dismiss the sensation with pure logic. "it was a surprise that I had experienced. Not actual pain."
"When? Just now?"
"No. Last night."
"When?"
"When I had tried to pick up the broken glass from the floor and I curiously pressed my hand to the bandage along my right temple."
"Wait... You tried to clean up the broken glass in the kitchen?" Hank's keen eyes narrowed suspiciously at the revelation. That was a detail that was very telling of the situation and of Connor's own behavior. "You told me you went to investigate the sound after the glass broke and went right back to the couch."
"I..." Connor began to show more and more signs of distress as he realized that he was caught in a small lie. "I wanted to clean up the glass, but you didn't ask me to do so. I didn't want to disobey you."
"Right." Hank knew he was onto something, and Markus could sense it, too. "I passed out in the kitchen after I got drunk, but I woke up in my bedroom. How did I get there? I know I didn't walk." Using evidence to his advantage Hank tried to back Connor into a corner. "If I had walked in a drunken state, then I would've stepped through the sharp glass and injured my feet."
"...I did carry you into your bedroom as well." Connor admitted, almost like he was afraid that he'd get in trouble for doing so without permission. "I am sorry."
"Don't be sorry, you were trying to help me. Let me ask you this." Pushing a little more Hank hoped his efforts weren't in vain. "WHY did you take me into my bedroom to sleep?"
"I don't know. I just felt that it was the right thing to do."
"You FELT?" Hank pressed calmly as the android fought to understand himself. "I thought you said you weren't able to feel anything?"
"I..." Connor's L.E.D. cycled red faster and faster as his heart thumped with explainable fear in his chest. "Please Lieutenant, I am sorry I disobeyed you. I cannot explain my actions."
"You're not in trouble, Connor." The senior detective replied sincerely and softly as he backed off a little. "It WAS the right thing to do. And I can tell you why you did it without being told to do it."
"Why?" The more understanding tone caused Connor's red L.E.D. to turn yellow as he relaxed a bit. "Why did I do it?"
"Because you've done it before! Well," realizing his comment wasn't entirely accurate Hank anxiously rubbed his left palm over the back of his tense neck. "sort of..."
"I do not remember doing so. Can you tell me more about it?"
"Sure." Hank was happy to indulge the question with an answer. "One night, when we first met each other before the Revolution, you came by the house and found me passed out drunk on the kitchen floor. You picked me up and carried me into the bathroom to get me sobered up because we had a case to work on. You helped me before and that's why it 'felt' right to help me again."
Searching his memorybank revealed nothing of use to Connor. "...I have no memory of that night."
"I know." Hank bowed his head a little with disappointment at the lack of progress. "But it happened all the same. And I'm grateful for your help. You didn't want me to hurt myself by walking through the glass or by falling down by mistake."
Markus saw the absolute blankness in Connor's brown eyes. He truly had lost his memory and all sense of self. "Connor, may I see your arm?"
"...Yes." Connor extended his arm out toward the deviant leader and watched as Markus took hold with a gentle grip. "I have nothing to hide."
Markus attempted to access Connor's memories but sure enough nothing was there. It was like Connor had just been created by CyberLife the day before but hadn't been programmed properly. In an attempt to restore Connor's lost memories, Markus uploaded the night of the Revolution from his own memory into Connor's memorybank, but it unfortunately didn't have the intended effect.
The attempt to fill in the blanks in his memory was very intense. Connor's L.E.D. cycled red at a dangerously rapid rate and he suddenly pulled his arm away from Markus defensively. He put both of his hands up to the sides of his aching head as the flash of images, sounds, emotions and pain all flooded the android's broken mind. It was too much to bear.
"I'm sorry! Sorry, Connor." Markus apologized sincerely and stood up from the couch to give the android some space. "I won't do it again. I only wanted you to see my memories, I didn't intend to cause you any pain."
Connor was clutching his head in his hands and curling around himself in overwhelming pain and confusion. It was all too overwhelming, and it made him physically tremble from the pain.
"Connor?" Patiently Hank waited for Connor to respond and saw the same blank expression in the android's eyes as Connor recovered from the extreme memory upload. "Are you going to be okay?"
"I am... unharmed." It took a moment, but Connor replied as he regained his composure from where he sat, his L.E.D. cycling from red, to yellow and back to blue. His hands lowered slowly, and Connor looked back up at Markus and Hank who were watching over him. "The memories and the feeling... It was unexpected."
"I'm sorry, Hank." Markus sighed and looked over at Hank with intense regret in his mismatched eyes. "We may not have a choice here."
"Yeah, I know." Entirely disappointed Hank put his hands on his hips and studied the android on his couch one last time. The Connor that he knew and trusted was long gone. "I know... Connor, come over here for a minute."
Connor did as he was instructed and rose from the couch to stand in front of Hank by the front door, the pain slowly fading from his eyes. "Yes, Lieutenant?"
"You need to go with Markus now, okay?"
"With Markus." Confused Connor turned to look at the deviant leader standing behind him before he returned his focus to Hank. "May I ask why?"
"Because I can't help you, but he can." Putting his hands on Connor's shoulders Hank looked the Connor in the eyes despite not seeing Connor looking back at him. "I at least we hope that he can. So, go with Markus and he'll make sure you're well taken care of, okay?"
"...Okay."
"Okay." Hank stared at Connor's blank face a while longer. "I, uh, I'm going to miss you. You were a good friend to me."
"Friend. We're still friends?"
"Yeah, we're still friends."
Markus watched the scene unfold silently. He knew that Hank was upset about having to send Connor away, but he also knew that it was in Connor's best interest to be around other androids for the time being.
"Goodbye, Lieutenant." Connor extended his hand toward Hank to shake, mirroring the polite gesture that he had witnessed Hank showing toward Markus a few moments prior. "Perhaps I will return one day."
"Yeah..." Hank shook Connor's hand for a few seconds before he pulled the android's hand and arm toward him to wrap both arms around Connor's shoulders and hold him in a tight hug. As he wrapped his arms around Connor to embrace him for what could be the final time Hank wanted the android to know how much he valued him as a friend. "Some day we will meet again."
Connor's blue L.E.D. flashed to red again as he stared at the door behind Hank with utter confusion in his eyes. His brow began to furrow as he slowly raised his own arms to reciprocate the hug as an unknown reaction from the depths of his programming told him to do so, and his red L.E.D. shifted to yellow. The hug was a pleasant feeling that Connor knew he enjoyed even if he couldn't put such enjoyment into words.
"You'll always have a home here, I promise, son." As Hank held onto Connor the android stared at the senior detective with a genuine sense of familiarity in his dark brown eyes. Something was beginning to click. "At least try to remember that, okay?"
"...'Son?'"
Connor stood idle in Hank's arms warily, his eyes searching over the side of the Hank's face as if looking for a clue. A flood of images, sounds and sensations washed over Connor's mind in an instant as if someone had opened the floodgates. His L.E.D. cycled from yellow to blue, to yellow, to red and then back to blue in a rapid transition of color as everything flowed so smoothly through his memory.
Unaware of what was happening Markus walked up behind Connor and put his hand on the android's shoulder. "We should head back to New Jericho Tower. It'll be weird to explain this to North, but she'll understand in time."
Connor didn't move away from Hank or even try to break the hug. Staring at Hank for a few minutes the dullness of Connor's vacant brown eyes began to fill with a familiar life and soulfulness as his memories returned to him one at a time in perfectly vivid detail.
"Connor?" Markus shook Connor's shoulder a little to try to get a response. "You okay?"
Without taking his eyes from Hank's face Connor's hand fell into the pocket of his leather jacket and he retrieved the quarter that Hank had given him the night before. Slowly Connor balanced the coin over the top of his knuckles and began to juggle it over his digits, the coin sliding faster and faster as the skill Connor had mastered once before returned in a matter of seconds.
"...This isn't MY coin." Connor stated firmly as he held the quarter between his index fingertip and thumb. "The date is wrong."
"What?" Hank saw the coin in the android's hand and arched his brow with cautious optimism. "Connor?"
A faint but sincere smile appeared on Connor's face. "Yes, Hank?"
"Wait..." A faint smile appeared on Hank's face as a result of Connor's familiar response. There was emotion in Connor's eyes and his voice which was indicative of deviancy. "You just called me 'Hank'. I thought it was unprofessional for you address me by my first name?"
"As is arriving to work late." Connor pocketed the coin and finally let go of Hank slowly as he regained his sense of self. "But that hasn't stopped you from clocking-in at the precinct under your own discretion."
"Connor..." With a trembling motion Hank put his hand to bearded chin and rubbed anxiously. "Do you remember me?"
"I remember." Connor replied with a relieved sigh in his voice as his memories were finally restored. "Everything. You, Markus, Sumo... The Revolution. I even remember slapping you in the face that night I sobered you up in the kitchen. I am still sorry about that, by the way."
Hank began to laugh a little in response as tears of relief welled up in his blue eyes. "Everything? Every case we've worked together? Every crime we've ever stopped?"
"Yes." The renewed deviant confirmed his restored memories as his fingers reached up to the white bandage on his head near his L.E.D. and gently applied pressure to the concealed wound. "I also remember... going undercover. Pushing Captain Fowler out of the way. And... getting shot as a result."
Markus was completely floored by Connor's sudden and almost miraculous recovery. "Connor?" The deviant leader pulled his hand from the deviant's shoulder and extended his arm out one last time. "May I see?"
Nodding a little Connor turned to the side and took Markus's hand in his own. In that instant of cybernetic connection Connor allowed Markus to see the events leading up to the night of his injury. Though the final memory as he was shot was foggy and distorted the memory was there all the same. Letting go of Connor's hand Markus took a step back and gave his friend an odd glance.
"I don't know how it's possible, but your memory has been fully restored." Now it was Markus who was beginning to laugh with relief. "Connor, this is incredible! You reclaimed memories that should've been completely eradicated."
"I can't explain it, but I remember." Turning to look back at Hank the revitalized deviant gave the senior detective a reassuring glance. "It's like a switch was flipped in my programming and now I remember everything."
"You should go see a technician." Despite the good news Markus urged Connor to get an examination as he stared at his friend with immense relief in his mismatched eyes. "You know, let them see if they can figure out what triggered your memory. Maybe it can help over deviants who had been damaged in the past reclaim their own memories."
"He's right." Needing something else to focus on Hank grabbed on to Connor's shoulder firmly and shook once. "I want to know just what the hell happened to you too. Let's get you back to the Zeta Facility."
"I'll go back to New Jericho," Markus volunteered as he watched Hank rush Connor out of the house through the front door and over to the car. "I'll let them know what's going on!"
Hank waved to Markus from the car as the two detectives entered the Oldsmobile to spread the good news. "Thanks, Markus! Thanks for everything!"
Regaining his memories and his overall sense of personality Connor patiently, but impatiently, endured the numerous tests and examinations to his program, processors, data banks, memorybank, reflexes and physical stability at the Zeta Facility. All the while, Hank watched just as impatiently for the technicians to finish their assessment. While no singular cause for Connor's seemingly miraculous recovery could be identified the technicians did conclude that Connor had made a full recovery nonetheless and he was cleared to go home for the day. Before the week was over Connor would also be permitted to return to the precinct and work alongside Hank as if nothing had happened.
Being discharged with a clean bill of health, Connor and Hank returned home where Connor happily engaged in a game of fetch with Sumo, and Hank called the precinct to let them know that Connor was going to be okay. Hank then informed Markus of everything that the technicians had done and hoped that New Jericho could possibly benefit from their tests.
After wrestling the drool covered green ball from Sumo's mouth for the twenty-eighth time that night, Connor saw that Hank was kneeling on the kitchen floor sweeping up the remaining broken bits of glass with a small broom and dustpan. Hank suddenly pulled his hand back and began swearing at himself in the process of his chore.
"Hank?" The game of fetch forgotten in an instant Connor swiftly joined Hank in the kitchen with Sumo following closely behind him with the dropped green ball back in his mouth. "Are you hurt?"
"I just cut myself on a piece of glass." The senior detective admitted as he finished sweeping up the remaining shards with his uninjured hand. His right hand was clenched in a tight fist to keep himself from dripping blood all over the floor. "Don't worry about it."
Connor ignored the comment and grabbed on to Hank's bleeding hand to examine the wound. A large chunk of glass was sticking out of his index fingertip and the finger was bleeding heavily.
"Go over to the sink." Connor urged as he took the dustpan from Hank's hand to clean up the remaining glass and emptied it into the trash can. Joining Hank at the sink Connor proceeded to pull out the offending glass from Hank's fingertip and run Hank's hand under the cool tap of clean water to wash away the blood around the wound. "No main vessels were damaged. You won't require any stitches, but you will need to keep it covered to prevent infection and stem the bleeding."
"You know something?" Despite the pain Hank was grinning the whole time the deviant was giving him first aid. "I kinda' missed you fussing over my health. But that doesn't mean I want you to worry about my drinking anymore."
"I'm not worried." Connor stated sincerely as he cleaned out the cut on Hank's finger then wrapped a paper towel around the still bleeding injury. He applied a little pressure to ensure the bleeding would stop. "You have it under control. Even when I wasn't... me, you still had yourself under control."
"What're you talking about? I got blackout drunk on a bottle of booze I hid under the damn sink!"
"Yet you still spoke to me honestly as I picked you up off the floor. You said that you missed the 'old Connor'."
"I did?"
"You were showing signs of emotional disturbance related solely to my condition, not from a depression or a lingering suicidal tendency. You've made great progress and don't require my opinion on the matter."
"Well, thanks. I guess."
"Shall I get you a bandage?"
"Nah, I can manage it." Hank answered as he walked across the kitchen, down to the hallway, into the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit from beneath the smaller sink. As he rummaged through the plastic box for a bandage, he heard the distinct sound of Connor flipping his coin back and forth between his hands as the deviant watched Hank from the end of the hallway. "Is that the right coin?"
"Yes. I found my real coin in my jean pocket."
"Good. Now stop messing with that thing! It's annoying."
"Sorry." Connor replaced the coin in his jean pocket and resumed playing fetch with Sumo in the livingroom. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure." Securing the clean bandage around his fingertip Hank packed up the first aid kit then joined Connor in the hallway. "What's on your mind?"
"Are you angry with Captain Fowler?"
"...A little." The fact that Captain Fowler put Connor in harm's way was something Hank wouldn't be able to forgive any time soon. "Why?"
"I could sense tension in your voice when you called the precinct a moment ago, and I faintly recall you saying that you swore you wouldn't lose another partner." The comment was truly intriguing to the ever curious deviant. "Wasn't Captain Fowler once your partner?"
"Something like that. He was a temporary partner, and we didn't get along very well in the field." Not wanting to linger in the hallway Hank returned to the livingroom to sit down on the couch and relax. "It's a long story, and I don't want to go into the details. Okay? Not tonight."
"Okay, I understand." Connor sat down on the couch beside Hank patiently waiting for a response, but it never came. "Some things are just too difficult to talk about."
Leaning back into the couch cushions Hank stared at his sore right finger for a moment before looking up at the deviant at his side. "Connor?"
"Yes?"
"I'm glad you're here." The senior detective humbly admitted. "This house would feel too damn empty without you."
"I'm glad too." Connor looked about the livingroom with a sense of warm familiarity as Sumo dropped the drool covered ball at his feet for the thirtieth time to resume playing their game. "This is my home, just like you said. And you're my fa-" Stopping himself mid sentence Connor picked up the ball from the floor to distract himself quickly before he said something embarrassing.
Hank heard Connor suddenly trail off and was too curious to let it go. "I'm you're... what?"
Feigning ignorance Connor tried to play dumb while his yellow glowing L.E.D. betrayed his emotions. "What?"
"You said I was something to you, then stopped all of a sudden. What were you going to say? It's not like it'd offend me."
"Friend." Connor sharply stated to cover himself convincingly as he gave the green fetch ball another toss and watched Sumo chase after it. "You're my friend."
"Oh. Why did you hesitate to say it?"
"I guess it felt a little... corny?"
"Oh, is that all?" Laughing at the silly claim Hank didn't know what else to say about it. "Only to you, kid."
-next chapter-
