Enduring the bitter cold Hank pulled his heavy overcoat tightly around himself as he cranked up the heat in the car to its maximum temperature as he watched Connor take his seat in the front beside him and fasten his seatbelt. The two detectives had been cleared from the facility and doctor's care under the condition they spend the next two days resting at home and take time away from the precinct. Considering the close call with the anti-android gang member setting up the two detectives to die had nearly succeeded, Captain Fowler had no objections to his two detectives getting some rest and staying away from the public during the New Year's Eve party aftermath.
Hank was trying to ignore the nasty chest cold trying to set in from being exposed to the cold water, while Connor insisted that he should be the one to drive back home so Hank could rest a little during the drive. It was essentially a small contest since both detectives were currently in rough condition.
"Ready to go home, son?"
"Yes." Connor confirmed with a subtle nod of the head as he pressed his palm over his still sore abdomen. The internal damage was healing properly, but that didn't mean it still didn't hurt. "I prefer the house over the facility. I'd also prefer it if you'd allow me to drive."
"No way." Slowly Hank pulled the car along the snowy street away from the facility to head back to the house. "You're the one who just spent the past day and a half admitted as a patient at the facility. You were shot and nearly drowned."
"You're the one who had been submerged in freezing cold water after being rendered unconscious for four minutes and nine seconds after receiving a severe blow to the back of your skull." Connor argued logically without missing a beat. His biometric scanner picked up on Hank's symptoms revolving around a nasty cold beginning to develop. "You're also clearly beginning to suffer the ill effects of being exposed to such extreme cold."
"A bullet wound will always outweigh a cold."
"What about a concussion?"
"A mild concussion." The stubborn Lieutenant countered as he pulled onto the small bridge to finally head for home. "I'm fine."
"Interesting." Feeling a little disrespected Connor shook his head slightly in irritation as he stared out his window. "Why is it whenever I attempt to simplify the overall severity of my own injuries you refute them immediately and remind me of my overall condition, yet when I attempt to do the same to you my words are rendered meaningless?"
"Your words aren't 'meaningless'." With his headache gnawing away at him Hank sighed tiredly as he focused on the road ahead. "They're just-"
"Hank..." Connor's voice was heavy like a stone. As his blue L.E.D. flashed to yellow he homed-in on a lone male figure standing on the edge of the bridge beyond the safety railing and standing over the perilously cold water flowing below. "Stop the car."
Without questioning Connor's motivation Hank pulled the car to the side of the bridge and came to a gentle stop. Connor threw off the seatbelt, threw open his door, and stepped out onto the snow covered surface of the bridge as he approached the figure at a slow quiet pace.
"Hello?" Connor called out into a gentle voice as he stared at the man's back. "Are you all right? Do you require some assistance?"
"...Just go away." The man's voice was as broken as it was somber. "Leave me alone."
"I'd rather not." Without missing a beat Connor replied with sincere kindness as he stood behind the railing. Hank stepped out of the car and watched from where he stood as he picked up his spare to issue in the scene to the precinct and ask for assistance. "I'm not going to go anywhere."
"Why?" The man nearly sobbed as he leaned forward over the water, his arms gripping on the rail behind him at a painful angle behind his back. "Why can you just go away?"
"I get the feeling that you've been left alone long enough already. You shouldn't be alone right now."
Hank quietly observed the conversation from the car. He could see Connor's L.E.D. calmly cycling in yellow for a few seconds before returning to blue as the deviant held his ground and kept his voice level.
The man turned his head slowly and looked at Connor over his shoulder. Brandishing red puffy eyes that were sore and swollen from chronic, heavy crying and a look of absolute desperation, he spotted the L.E.D. in Connor's temple and turned away quickly. Staring down at the water below him the man's legs began to buckle, and he began to sob again.
"Sir," remaining respectful Connor called out to the man and tried to get him to listen to reason. "please talk to me."
"The first person to show me any form of kindness isn't even a person. It's a machine!" The man's anger began to mount and overwhelm his own sorrow on a whole new level. "Damn machines destroyed this entire city, now you're trying to be our friends! It's a lie! It's all lies... You're nothing but a machine posing as a man. You're nothing." The man let out a weak almost amused scoff. "But so am I. Maybe we're not so different after all."
"...Sir?" The comment made Connor feel suddenly inadequate. The similarity between his reaction to Connor's approach and Hank's previous comment left a painful mark over the deviant's developing heart, but he was determined to try to help the man in distress. "Yes. I am an android, but I'm more than a machine. My name is Connor." Connor introduced himself kindly to try to keep the man talking. "I work for the Detroit Police Department. What's your name?"
"...James. My name's James."
"James, will you please talk to me?" Connor took another step forward without getting too close too quickly. "I wish to understand why you're standing on the bridge."
"I have nowhere else to go! So why not to Hell?"
"You do not have a home?"
"Not anymore!" James sobbed as he told his sad story. "My wife cheated on me! Took my daughters and left the city to be with her lover! I have nothing..."
"I'm truly sorry for your misfortune." Connor's voice was full of empathetic emotion as he spoke with utter sincerity. "But you cannot give up on your life because of what your wife has done to you. You said you have children; don't you want to see them again?"
"Yes! More than anything!" James admitted as he stopped sobbing and took in a calming breath. "But I don't know where she took my girls! I... I can't live without them!"
"And I'm certain your daughters don't want to live without their father."
"They wouldn't miss me." Turning again to look at Connor behind him James locked his teary pale brown eyes onto Connor's soulful dark brown eyes. "What kind of father can't protect his children from the lies and betrayal of their own whore of a mother? I'm weak! Pathetic! That's why she left me! That's why she LIED TO ME!"
"What kind of life will your daughters have without you in it? You're the one who truly seems to care about them and their wellbeing. Do you wish to simply let them go without a fight?"
"...Fight?"
"You admit that you wish to protect them." Connor took another step forward, stepping over the railing to stand beside the man on the edge of the bridge. The sight of the water so far below made Connor's stomach twist into a painfully tight knot as his fear of heights made its presence known at the most inopportune time. "...Now you must prove it. Fight for them."
"How? How can I-"
"I cannot tell you how to live your life or what choices you should make," Calmly Connor stated the truth as he forced himself to remain grounded at the precarious ledge. "but I can tell you that your life is far more meaningful than what your wife has made you believe."
"...My girls." James wiped his arm over his teary eyes and turned around quickly, his hands clutching onto the icy cold metal railing as he moved. "I... I have to fight for them."
"Yes." Moving carefully Connor put his hand on James's shoulder and held it there. "Please. Don't give up on yourself, don't give up on your children, James." Looking at the far drop below from the corner of his eye Connor felt himself beginning to tremble from fear. "You have so much to live for still. Don't stop just because your wife has deceived you."
Nodding a few times the horribly depressed and desperate man slowly stepped back over the railing with Connor following closely behind him. As the two men reached the edge of the bridge near the street that stretched over it, a patrol car pulled up to the scene and Hank promptly informed the responding officer to the situation at hand.
"Situation under control." The Lieutenant insisted with a level tone. "Keep back."
James froze in place as Connor nodded to the responding officers that the shaken man just needed to be taken in for observation for the night and speak to a therapist about everything that had happened. There was no need to arrest him or be assertive in any way.
"You'll be okay, James." As he spoke kindly Connor kept a reassuring hand on James's shoulder. "These officers will take care of you and help you find a way to get your daughters back."
While James spoke to the police and agreed to be admitted to the psychiatric hospital for observation before he began his custody battle for his daughters, Connor stood on the bridge behind the railing with both hands planted firmly on the cold metal bar. Peering over the edge Connor stared at the churning water below as the wind caused his dark hair to dance about his forehead gently while he became lost in thought.
"James is going to be fine." Hank stated as he joined Connor on the bridge and put his hand to the deviant's shoulder. "You did great, kid. You saved a life today."
Connor didn't reply as his eyes remained transfixed on the foreboding cold water below.
"Come on. We need to get home." Patting Connor's shoulder twice Hank tried to coax the deviant into following behind him and back to the car. "I'm freezing and I know you can't be fairing any better than I am."
Slowly Connor retracted his hands from the railing and backed away from the edge of the bridge, turning around on his heels to walk toward the car where Hank was waiting. Having to overcome his own fears at such a dire time only reminded Connor of how fragile all life was in the world, including his own.
"You drive." Hank insisted as he pulled open the passenger side door of the Pace and sat down in the seat heavily. "I'm too tired to keep going."
Connor paused for a moment before he walked over to the driver's side door of the parked car and sat down behind the wheel. With a shaking hand Connor shifted the car into gear and resumed the drive down the bridge to head for home. Silence filled the car as the two detectives returned to their home after enduring such an unusual morning on the bridge and tried to breathe sighs of relief. It was a thick silence that was almost impenetrable as the beginning of the new year was already off to a rocky start.
As the car was shifted into park in the driveway beside the house Connor turned off the engine and handed the keys over to Hank to take back.
"You okay?" The observant senior detective asked as he accepted the keys and pushed open his door. "You've been quiet ever since the bridge."
Connor remained silent but nodded his head 'yes' to reply.
"You don't seem okay. What's on your mind?" Pushing gently Hank tried to coax Connor into opening up about his emotions. "Was it the jumper or maybe the concept of suicide itself?"
"...It's nothing."
"Don't do that." Hank waited for Connor to exit the car before walking to the backdoor with the deviant beside him. "Talk to me."
"It's nothing." Resistant to speak up Connor tried to keep his emotions to himself. "Just... Meaningless thoughts."
"Son, don't do that." Hank studied Connor's face curiously as he unlocked the backdoor and pushed it open. "Your words are NEVER meaningless."
"Apparently they are."
"What did you just say?" Hank didn't appreciate Connor's cold offended response. It was a mixture of anger, poor attitude and depression that always put Hank on edge. "Answer me."
Connor's eyes were heavy with confusion and raw emotion as he silently entered the house through the front door ahead of Hank. Crossing through the livingroom he stood at the end of the hallway and froze for a moment as Hank entered the house after him and locked the front door with an audible 'click'. He could sense the senior detective staring at him from the distance.
From his pillow in the livingroom Sumo lifted his head and let out a low grumble to acknowledge his masters' return but didn't bother to get up to greet either of them as the cold made his arthritic bones ache too much to move.
"Connor." The senior detective managed to even out his voice as he addressed the stubborn deviant again. "I need you to tell me what's bothering you."
Taking a deep breath Connor steadied his own voice and finally asked what was really weighing on his mind. "Why don't you listen to me?"
"What?"
"Whenever I try to help you," Connor turned to look at Hank with true hurt in his eyes. "you never listen to me. Why? A man I had only met an hour ago was willing to listen to me and let me convince him to not commit suicide; but you've known me for over two years now and you won't let me help you."
Hank approached the deviant timidly, his voice and expression softening in response to a paternal degree. "I had been alone for so long after I lost my family that I simply forgot what it's like to have someone helping me. To have someone actually WANT to help me because they care, not out of some bullshit professional courtesy or etiquette. I'm just not used to it, that's all."
"I see..." Connor wasn't convinced and the look in his eyes was all it took to communicate his personal frustrations and doubt as his blue L.E.D. settled on a grim yellow color. "Then it's all about my less than human reactions being preferable to the other people in your life."
"What? No! Where'd that come from?"
"Androids have destroyed this city. We brought about discrimination, unemployment, violence... For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction; so logically the cold and calculated routines of machines should prove beneficial in contrast to the unpredictable emotions of humans."
"Are you fuckin' malfunctioning of something?" Hank was losing his temper at the way Connor was dragging his own name, his own accomplishments, through the mud. "HUMANS brought about the problems in this city, this entire world! Androids were just targeted and blamed." The senior detective was visibly disturbed by Connor's bleak, almost depressed demeanor. "Is that what's bothering you? That humans don't listen to androids?"
"Evidently so. Perhaps if I were in fact human then maybe you'd listen to me."
"Hey, don't do that!" Hank scolded in frustration as he tried to explain things to Connor. "It has NOTHING to do with you being an android."
"I don't believe that." Unconvinced and morose Connor sounded almost broken as he spoke. "You've never listened to me whenever I've helped you in the past. Like James, and everyone at the precinct, the people in the city... The first thing you see when you look at me is a machine. The entire city had been divided with violence all because of how they see androids and how they see humans. Everything I say, everything I do, and everything I think all revolves around me being a deviant. And deviants don't mean anything to the rest of the people in the city."
"Connor, STOP." Hank raised his voice, his tone directing aggression at Connor for the first time since the night of the Revolution as he tried to get the stubborn deviant detective to listen to him. "Don't talk like that! I see you as you, Connor. My partner, my friend and most importantly, as my son."
Doubtful and filled with an odd sense of loss Connor kept his silence as he looked down at his right hand, the artificial skin receding from his palm to reveal the white plastimetal frame beneath as if eyeing evidence to prove to the contrary of Hank's words. Flexing his hand into a tight fist Connor seemed to be repulsed by his own appearance.
"If that were true then you'd let me help you and know that I have no ulterior motive behind it. It's not a hollow gesture."
"I know you're trying to help me, and I know it's because you care." Lowering his tone of voice Hank tried to reassure Connor about the sincere trust he had for the deviant. "And I know you that you DO help me because you want to, but it's still hard for me to accept help after being left feeling so helpless when I was left a widower, then... childless. I guess I just can't get used to having a family again. It's my fault, all right?"
Connor's keen observation noted the sincerity, the deep honesty in Hank's demeanor and his words, yet something inside Connor kept him from truly accepting the answers. A part of Connor still blamed himself for all the city's misfortunes despite being entirely innocent of any crimes.
"Look, it's difficult to explain, but humans-" Hank put his hand to Connor's shoulder and he felt the deviant trembling under his palm which immediately sent up a red flag. "Are you okay? You're shaking, but you don't feel cold."
"...Heights." Connor admitted while also keeping his true distress hidden away as he tried to ignore the vivid memory of standing on the edge of the bridge over the deathly cold water still fresh in his mind. Shrugging away from Hank's touch he took a step back from Hank and looked at the floor. "I still have issues with heights. It's unnerving and distracting."
"Oh, right." Hank had almost forgotten that Connor had developed a fear of heights during his deviancy. An android with phobias was a rather rare occurrence in general. "You still need to talk about it?"
"No. I just want to lay down for a while and try to rest."
"Rest?" At that admission Hank's blue eyes flashed with newfound concern for the deviant. Instinctively he tried to put a hand to Connor's forehead to check for a fever in case the deviant was overheating from his previous damage, but the deviant turned his head away quickly. "Are you feeling sick or still feeling weak from your injury?"
"No." Connor quickly denied as he walked down the hallway, stepping out of Hank's reach again causing the senior detective's hand to fall away from his shoulder. "I just want to be left alone for a while."
"Please don't do that, don't put up walls." Despite his pleas Hank's words seemed to fall on deaf ears as the deviant turned his back on him. "Connor? Son!"
Hank called out loudly as Connor entered his bedroom and quietly pulled the door shut behind him without uttering another word. The cold reaction left Hank feeling out of place and like he had failed to protect his son from the cruelty of the world.
"Son? Talk to me." Knocking on the closed bedroom door Hank tried to get Connor to keep speaking. "I want to listen to what you're feeling and thinking. I won't judge you or dismiss your words."
The emotionally distraught deviant remained silent as he kept out of his sight in seclusion of his own bedroom. He had a lot to think about and didn't know how to put his feelings into words.
Putting his hands to hips Hank bowed his head down and let out a breathy sigh as he swore to himself with righteous frustration. The man couldn't seem to stop himself from making things worse when he was just trying to make things easier for both Connor and himself to understand. It was as if the man's skills and patience as both a friend and as a father were about to be put to the ultimate test.
"Damn it, I can't let this year start with me fucking things up again. Not with Connor still needing me to help guide him through this fucked up mess we call life..."
Laying on his bed with his arm tucked neatly under his head, Connor had his eyes closed while his yellow L.E.D. flashed rhythmically as he received numerous updates from both the precinct and New Jericho Tower regarding crimes, cases, and the general activity throughout the city. Resting his free hand over his chest Connor flexed and relaxed his fingers in rhythm with his L.E.D. as he easily filed away each report and categorized the reports of interest based on the severity of the confirmed details. As his fingers curled and uncurled at a steady clip his artificial skin would recede and regenerate over his fingertips with perfect timing as if Connor couldn't commit to its aesthetic being in place.
It was seemingly quiet until something of great interest appeared in Connor's cybernetic caseload at the precinct. A report of recent anti-android gang activity caught Connor's full attention causing his soulful brown eyes to snap open and the deviant to sit upright on the bed. It was getting late, just a few minutes after ten in the evening, but Connor was determined to work on the case in order to distract his already racing mind from his rather bleak and confused thoughts of being a deviant in a human world.
The anti-android gang activity throughout the city had decreased notably due to the brutally cold winter, but whenever the violence returned dozens of innocent people; humans and deviants alike, would become caught in the crossfire and injured. Whereas gang wars hadn't been an issue as of late, the tension building in the city was still enough to cause even the most docile of personalities to begin lashing out defensively.
Swinging his legs over the edge of his bed Connor approached his closet and pulled the door open to retrieve his leather jacket and black woolen beanie in favor of his usual gray blazer and black tie. Slipping on the more human garments over his black t-shirt and his hair, Connor grabbed his tan boots instead of his dark gray work boots and made his way out of his bedroom and down the hallway into the livingroom.
Sumo's tail thumped a few times against the floor as the large, old dog watched Connor's every movement curiously as soon as the deviant came into his line of sight. Laying on his pillow in the corner of the livingroom, Sumo was happy to see Connor for the first time in almost a full day, but the cold was making it too painful for the large Saint Bernard to get up and walk around thanks to his arthritis.
The deviant was moving about slowly, quietly, and using every trick for discretion that he could think of. Connor slipped on the boots and stopped just long enough to pat the massive dog's head and rub his hand along Sumo's graying muzzle before making his way to the front door to head to the heart of the city.
"There's something important I need to do, I'll be back later, boy."
Connor stated in a low whisper as to not rouse Hank from his sleep down the hallway as he gave Sumo some affection.
"I promise."
Opening the front door silently Connor slipped out into the darkness of the cold, wintry night as he set out to confront the violence of the anti-android gangs with every intention of finally bringing the chaos to an end. One way or another, Connor was bound and determined to prove himself as either a man or a machine to all of the people in the city to acknowledge.
It was something he needed to prove to the people and to himself...
Unbeknownst to Connor, who had quietly resided in solitude inside his dim bedroom ever since he returned home earlier that morning, Hank was still wide awake and listening to every little noise in the house. Having heard Connor's bedroom door open then close, followed by the front door doing the same in a very quiet but still audible manner, Hank had decided to go check things out for himself as his paternal instincts told him that something big was happening. The way the physically healing deviant was being so aloof and depressed made Hank genuinely worry for Connor's overall emotional, mental, and even psychological health since Connor was still learning what it meant to be alive.
Wrapping his dark blue robe around himself Hank opened his bedroom door and called out for Connor despite already knowing that the deviant had slipped out of the house for the night. Needing to know what was happening Hank made the attempt to reach Connor even though he was putting up emotional barriers and keeping everyone away.
"Connor?"
Calling out for the deviant in a slightly congested voice Hank received no reply, only silence. Opening his bedroom door wider Hank wandered down the hallway and checked out the livingroom for any sign of Connor but saw the room empty save for Sumo.
"Where'd you go, kid?"
The car keys were still where Hank had left them on the bookshelf against the wall in the livingroom, which meant Connor was either traveling on foot or using an autonomous cab, neither of which were alarming. However, noticing that Connor left his usual work boots by the front door meant he had left the house in his less deviant attire in favor of the simple humanoid clothing that Hank had insisted he wear when wanting to keep a low profile.
To confirm his suspicions Hank walked into Connor's bedroom and checked the closet. Sure enough, the leather jacket and beanie were gone, and his gray blazer had been left behind.
"What the hell? What's he up to?"
Closing the closet door Hank ran a hand thoughtfully over his bearded chin and returned to his own bedroom to change into some fresher clothes. It seemed that Connor wasn't the only one who'd be roaming the city on that dark, cold night.
"Damn it, son. Don't try to run off again."
Looking over to a family photograph sitting on the nightstand beside the bed Hank looked at Cole's smiling, innocent face and felt his stomach knot with fear.
"Whatever you're trying to prove to me is not worth it, son. You do matter without any doubts in my mind."
Cybernetically Connor tracked down the most recent reports of anti-android gang activity taking place within the city. Using his superior physicality to easily maneuver his way through abandoned properties, over low fences, and navigate decrepit buildings, Connor stealthily crept through the dark streets in search of the dangerous suspects. Keeping his head low and footsteps light Connor was able to avoid any and all unwanted attention from passersby as he used the cover of darkness to his complete advantage. Roaming the streets through the darkness and cold all alone, Connor held his head high as he focused solely on finding the dangerous gang. The concealed L.E.D. under his beanie flashed yellow in distress as he continued his search.
Clever as always Connor used deductive reasoning based on the collected evidence and witness statements regarding the anti-android gang activity and narrowed down his search to a dangerous, seldom tread neighborhood in the outskirts of Detroit. Due to the lack of direct evidence and proper funding to the police precincts, the ability to locate such an area had been long overlooked even during the most chaotic of incidents.
In the distance Connor could hear the sounds of loud voices speaking to one another and music with heavy bass radiating from a large car. The voices were dominantly masculine and carried an aggressive tone with their loud conversation.
The clever deviant knew he had to be getting close to his targets.
"If I do this right I can eliminate the anti-android gang activity from the entire city."
Too far away to run any facial scan to possible identify any of the people in question Connor had no choice but to get closer to the unseen persons of interest. The distinct colors being worn by the gathered practically confirmed that Connor had successfully located the correct people who were responsible for the unnecessary violence and chaos taking place throughout the entire city.
"I'm close, I can feel it. I can finally rid my people of a perpetual threat and bring peace to the streets."
Playing on a seasoned hunch that stemmed from years as a skilled detective, Hank decided to check in at the precinct as he set about trying to figure out where Connor had gone and why the empathetic deviant was now seemingly tense about his own deviancy. Hank arrived at the Central Precinct late into the night with a slightly sleepy demeanor as he made his way to Captain Fowler's office in search of some answers. He did his best to ignore the other curious officers going about their shifts to prevent anyone from asking where Connor was at that time. Unfortunately, such a feat soon proved too much to ask for since everyone knew of the deviant's near-death experience on New Year's Eve.
Everyone knew what had happened and everyone was curious to know what had happened to the two detectives after they had been rescued. The precinct didn't want to start off the new year by having to say goodbye to two of their colleagues due to such a grievous incident.
"Hey, Lieutenant." Gavin acknowledged Hank's return to the bullpen with an inquisitive tone as he sat behind his desk. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Don't worry about it." Knocking on the glass door of Captain Fowler's office after dismissing the loud-mouthed detective with a curt reply, Hank opened the door and leaned his head inside without waiting for an invitation. "Jeffrey, you gotta' minute?"
"Hank?" Captain Fowler looked up from his terminal screen just as he turned the device off for the night. "What the hell are you doing here? You and Connor are still benched until you're both medically cleared. Shit, you look like you've got a cold on top of a concussion."
"Have you seen Connor?" Ignoring the logical observations Hank asked as he walked into the office and shut the door behind him indifferently to keep eavesdropping at a minimum. "He took off a while ago and I have no idea where he went."
"I haven't seen him. Did something happen to today?" Giving Hank his full attention Captain Fowler tried to help Hank finding the missing deviant. "I mean, aside from him talking that jumper down from the bridge."
"I wish I knew. Connor's been pretty out of it since this morning." Hank noted the late time and the odd abundance of officers still working in the bullpen; the same could be said about Captain Fowler himself. "What's been going on here? I know we don't have the payroll for overtime."
"Yeah, about that." Captain Fowler leaned back in his chair and motioned to the dozen officers devotedly working at their desks with a quick point of his thumb. "There was an assault downtown between the pro and anti-android gangs about five hours ago. It was a real mess. Nine people were hospitalized, four killed, thirteen deviants were damaged and six were destroyed. It was like Hell on Earth and Detroit got caught in the middle."
"Shit. I know Connor keeps tabs on reports at the precinct, maybe he's out investigating." A sickening knot formed in Hank's stomach and began to tighten with dread. "He did seem upset about the increasing violence against androids and seems to think an android's opinion doesn't matter. He may have found a lead or something and wants to handle it himself."
"I doubt he'd find anything." Captain Fowler leaned forward against his desk and sighed tiredly. "There's really nothing to investigate. All of our top suspects have disappeared, and we have no idea where they went. What makes you think Connor would go out in the middle of the cold dark night to check out a shitty, useless crime scene?"
"I honestly don't know. It's like he's depressed or something."
"Depressed? I didn't know machines could suffer from depression."
"What?" Hank's brow furrowed at the cold comment. Folding his arms over his chest Hank studied his captain curiously. "Seriously? Remember how torn up Connor was after Lucas was murdered? He was a wreck, barely able to just function let alone live. I hope I never see him suffer such a horrible pain like that for the rest of his life."
"Yeah, but that's different. You know? Connor felt responsible for the crime."
"No, I don't know." Hank retorted aggressively, suddenly feeling protective toward the missing deviant. "Connor lost his brother, and nearly gave up on his life entirely after losing his only family. I know how that feels, and you know how I behaved. How else would you expect him to react?"
"I don't know. I'm not exactly an expert on androids."
Though unintentional Captain Fowler's indifference to Connor's struggle to understand his emotions and existence seemed to open Hank's eyes to the deviant's plight for the first time since the Revolution. Now it seemed so obvious that the struggles that deviants were enduring were still as abundant as ever.
"Holy shit." The Lieutenant sank in his chair as his brow knit with shock. "After all this time, after everything he's been through and after everything he's done, and you still see him as a machine, don't you?"
"Well, yeah. Don't get me wrong," going into detail only seemed to make things worse for the commanding officer as he spoke. "I don't think he's inferior to anyone here, he's really proved himself to be an exceptional detective and an officer."
"But you still think of Connor as a machine first and not a detective."
"It's nothing personal."
"Yeah, sure. You did just prove him right, too." Hank ran his hand over his bearded chin again as he pulled his phone from his pocket. "Son of a bitch. No wonder he feels so meaningless. The kid went out to prove something and he doesn't have to do it. We're the ones with the problem, not him."
"What the hell is going on?"
"I think Connor just did something really stupid and it's all because humans are even stupider! I have to go find him before something terrible happens to that poor kid."
"Should I-"
"No." Turning his back on his commanding officer Hank made his way toward the office door and pulled it open with a firm yank that nearly broke the glass door from its hinges. "I think you've done enough for the night. Now I'm the one who needs to clean up the mess."
Following his instincts as a detective Connor successfully located the anti-android gang actively residing inside of an abandoned warehouse. The warehouse itself was once held automotive parts but had since been illegally renovated to act as a hideout for the anti-android gang while they laid low from the police. The modified building was in a location that anyone who valued their life would never venture without a good reason, making it an ideal hideout. The decrepit warehouse was also so remote and so isolated from the rest of the city that it was easily overlooked by patrolling officers and very few people roamed in the area long enough to notice anything out of the ordinary.
Loud voices shouted and even louder music blared as what sounded like a fist fight took place in the depths of the warehouse. A chorus of cheers and boos resonated throughout the building as 'thuds' and 'crashes' and the shattering of glass echoed throughout the property behind warehouse.
Using the alleyway beside and along the rear of the warehouse to keep himself hidden Connor peered through a hole between two large wooden boards propped up against a chainlink fence that connected the alley to the property. Through the boards he saw the anti-android gang members gathered in the middle of the snow and ice covered ground in a circle just behind the warehouse itself.
Inside the circle of onlookers two men, who were already covered in blood, were engaged in physical combat. Armed with chains, broken glass bottles and lead pipes the two men squared off against one another to finish the fight that they had started.
The fight was a gang initiation ceremony, and it seemed that the gang only had room for one more.
"This is how they welcome human members into a gang against androids?"
Connor asked himself in a disgusted tone of voice. Looking down at his right hand he retracted the artificial skin from over his palm exposing the white plastimetal frame beneath it.
"The violence in the city has been blamed on androids, yet this how humans willingly behave for their own amusement. It isn't... fair."
A sickening 'crack' followed by a loud symphony of cheers sounded off from the fight as one of the men dropped the ground dead. The lead pipe had busted his skull open and killed him instantly with a painful blow. The dead body was dragged out of the circle, leaving a trail of fresh red blood behind and out of sight. The leader of the gang, an intimidating man of size and presence, grabbed onto the arm of the 'winner' and held it up in the air with an ill-gotten sense of pride as the other gang members cheered even louder.
"Deviants aren't the threat to this city."
Connor sneered as he clenched his exposed hand into a tight fist at his side.
"He is."
Marching around the fence and down the alleyway Connor slipped his leather jacket from his arms dropping it to the icy ground behind him as he walked. Connor set foot inside the battleground, passing through the gathered mass of gang members encircling the makeshift arena and stood before the gang's leader with an unflinching presence as he dared to approach the source of the violence plaguing Detroit's streets.
The gathered gang began whispering and laughing to one another as Connor, who wasn't necessarily a small man, approached their leader.
Connor himself was just over six feet tall and weighed barely one hundred and sixty pounds. With a build designed more for agility than strength, Connor was less likely to hold his own in physical combat against other androids that were built for strength, let alone massive humans who were ready to break him apart. The deviant had put himself in a very dangerous position and yet he showed no sign of fear behind his eyes.
The gang leader was six foot four, easily two-hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle and proudly brandished numerous scars along his knuckles that were more like medals of victory than old wounds. Anti-android symbols adorned the backs of his hands in fresh and old tattoos, and he had thick gold rings on each finger to act as a form of pricier, more discreet brass knuckles.
"What the fuck is this?" The gang leader almost laughed at Connor standing before him. "Some boy scout get lost on the way home?"
"My name is Connor." Connor reached into his jean pocket and pulled out his wallet to flash his shield and confirm his identity in what was either an incredibly courageous or incredibly foolish manner. "I work for the Detroit Police department."
"Then you must be new to the job." The leader dropped the arm of his newest recruit as he pulled a gun from the back of his own jeans and aimed it at Connor's chest. The man didn't even hesitate to pull his weapon and take aim at the detective. "That was the biggest mistake of your life."
"I'm not here as a cop." With his mind made up Connor threw aside his wallet without absolute indifference behind the gesture. Putting his hand to his black beanie he began to pull it from his head to expose his yellow tinted L.E.D. for the entirety of the hate filled gangs to see. "I'm here as a deviant."
The gang began to murmur and laugh at the sight of the flickering L.E.D. in Connor's temple. The small circle of light might as well have been a bullseye.
"Then you're a DEAD deviant." The leader boasted as he pulled back the hammer of his gun. "I gotta' admit, you gotta' a lot of balls comin' out here. Why are you here anyway?"
"I want to stop the violence." Connor declared as boldly as the very threat before standing himself. Pulling off his t-shirt Connor dropped it to the ground as he showed the still healing scar over his abdomen where he had been recently shot, and he revealed the faint but still visible scars on his upper back from being tortured and whipped a few months prior by a deranged former technician. "I've had enough of it, and I don't want to see anyone else suffer."
"So what? You're a fuckin' cop!" Laughing at the gesture the gang leader was totally unphased by Connor's presence. "Gettin' shot is what they pay you for, you dumb piece of plastic!"
"Wrong." Defiantly Connor shook his head and turned his back to the leader to show his numerous fading scars courtesy of being tortured when he was nearly buried alive a few months before. "This wasn't from getting shot, this is from a misguided, cowardly kid who lashed out against me." Closing his eyes Connor's yellow L.E.D. flickered rapidly as every other scar he had received during his time as a detective become visible through his choice to reveal it. "And these are from all the other cowards who tried to kill me over the past two and half years. Obviously, they've all failed."
The leader lowered his gun and gave Connor an odd look. "What the fuck are you gettin' at?"
"I want to stop the violence by any means necessary, and I'm not going to walk away unless I either succeed or die."
Turning to look at the leader once more Connor stood his ground and made his claim. The scar near the center of his chest where he had been stabbed in the heart was being displayed like a badge of honor.
"I've been shot, stabbed, burned, shocked, poisoned, buried alive, tortured, drowned, frozen, broken, paralyzed, crushed, impaled, blown-up, suffocated and diseased by various people with misplaced anger and hatred." Pressing his fingertips to his now red tinted L.E.D. Connor closed his eyes and retracted his artificial skin entirely from his body exposing the full extent of his white plastimetal frame that wasn't already covered beneath his clothing. The depth of the scars were as impressive as they were abundant. "All these attempts to end my life, and I remember each one vividly. But I'm still here. I'm still alive."
"You ain't alive!" The leader argued sharply with an enraged bark at the bold statement. "You're just a walkin', talkin' computer!"
The witnessing gang members had enough of Connor talking down to their leader and began to openly protest against his very presence. Their loyalty to their leader was staggering if not damning.
"Hey, don't let that asshole talk to you like that, Rampage!" One of the gang members taunted from the circle that had gathered around the leader, evidently named Rampage, and Connor. "Kill that motherfucker! It fucked up the city!"
Connor didn't blink, he didn't even flinch at the threats.
"If you think you can kill me, then go ahead and try." The foolhardy deviant challenged. "One of your members tried to kill me by slitting my throat, another tried to beat me to death with a baseball bat, and a third tried to shoot me and leave me for dead. All of them have failed. Can you do any better?"
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Rampage was thoroughly confused by Connor's arrival and what seemed to be an open invitation to end his life. "You wanna' die or something?"
"I can't die if I'm not alive." Connor held up his exposed hand as if Rampage couldn't already see that he was an android. "I'm just a machine, right? You should have no problem with breaking a simple machine."
"What the fuck, man!?" Not expecting any form of confrontation from a deviant had thrown Rampage for a loop. "This shit is weird!"
"You watched a human die tonight and you didn't care." Motioning to the fresh red blood on the melted snow between himself and Rampage, the fearless deviant challenged Rampage's morals and his conviction to removing the supposed 'android menace' in the city. "What difference would there be if you broke one machine?"
"Yeah, sure..." Rampage lowered his gun with a sense of interest and tossed it to one of the gang members standing nearby. "You know what? I like you. You're a fuckin' piece of plastic with an attitude. I like that. It's different."
"I'm also the 'piece of plastic' assigned to bring this gang down. I found you and I succeeded." Connor reminded Rampage with a cold tone rivaled only by the snow that swirled around him as the late night became increasingly darker. "I could've easily contacted the precinct and had this entire area swarmed with police and drones long before anyone here could've escaped, but I didn't do that."
"You're up to somethin'." Rampage was giving Connor an odd glance. If Connor didn't know any better, he might've called it 'respect'. "Right, so what do you want? To negotiate or some other bullshit?"
The gang laughed at the comment while Connor held his ground.
"No." Speaking over the laughter Connor explained everything plainly and simply. "I want to put everything I have on the line to stop this pointless violence once and for all. After tonight, I'll either succeed or I'll fail. You alone are the deciding factor."
"All right, you have my attention." Rampage extended his arms outward as if inviting a direct confrontation. "I'm listenin'."
"If you can break me, then you'll have your run over the city. I'll be gone and my partner will be taken off the case due to a bias and personal connections to my destruction." As he spoke Connor felt the air around him growing tenser as the observing gang members silenced their laughs. "You'll be in total control of the city without anyone working the case to get in the way."
"Sounds good to me."
"But if I survive, if I'm still standing after you try to kill me and you're left exhausted and covered in blood, then you must surrender and disband your gang." The conditions of the confrontation seemed extreme, and yet Connor knew there was no other way to end the violence without such an agreement. "No resistance, no questions, no running away. Do we have a deal?"
"And you seriously think I'd just willingly turn myself in? The entire gang laughed again as Rampage remained stoic. "Like I'd just walk into the precinct and hold out my hands to the nearest pig so I can be arrested?"
"I think you're a man of your word."
Something about Connor's tone, something about the way he carried himself, had a profound impact on Rampage as he contemplated Connor's offer. There was even something about the passion in Connor's words that had a deep impact on Rampage's perception of androids as a whole. It was as if he was speaking to someone who had everything and nothing on the line at the same time and was willing to risk it all for the sake of other people.
"You have nothing to lose and everything to gain." Connor reaffirmed as he held true to his offer. "Even if I survive the fight there's no way your gang would allow me to live and tell the tale. I'd be hunted down, torn apart, and left for death while you're behind bars. Either way, you will only gain fortune and I'll be gone."
"All right, you're on." Rampage nodded his head and took a step back as he took off his own blood splattered shirt revealing the bulk of strong muscle that gave his already intimidating presence an entirely new threat. There were additional tattoos over his chest and shoulders that were dedicated to his family, and as such, they contrasted sharply against the hate filled ink on his hands and arms. "What's the time limit?"
Connor calculated the odds of his survival if Rampage were to unleash his full strength on to his leaner, plastimetal frame. The smaller deviant wouldn't be able to last long - a rough estimation of only six minutes and fifty-three seconds - before the blunt force trauma ruptured his internal biocomponents or tore loose main Thirium lines running throughout his body. If the other gang members got involved and assisted in the beating then Connor would shut down within seconds, not minutes.
The time was arguably incalculable.
"The time limit is when you get tired." Connor declared confidently as he pushed away any instinct of self-preservation he had gained during his deviancy. Now wasn't the time to back down, now was the time to step up. "It's all up to you."
The gang fell into a hush of confused silence at Connor's statement. Never before had an android, let alone a deviant or even a cop, confronted the gang directly and put their life on the line for the sake of respect and protection of a city that didn't care about him or the other deviants.
"Sounds good to me..." Rampage accepted the offer and proceeded to pull the switchblade from his pocket and throw it to the same gang member who had already caught his gun from earlier. "Let's do this. No weapons, just raw strength. You and me, one on one."
Connor nodded and held up his forearm to block the swinging fist of the first incoming punch from Rampage and managed to hold him back. The effort was swift and accurate with just enough strength to stop the strike, but not enough to deter Rampage from continuing the impending beating.
"You're quick. And you're going to put up a fight." With a wicked sneer Rampage nodded as well before he fiercely headbutted Connor's face causing blue blood to drip from the deviant's now damaged nose and upper lip in the process. The red L.E.D. flashed rapidly in response to the pain and drastic impact. "I like that..."
Stunned but not deterred Connor spit his own blood from onto the ground and glared at the gang member without any fear in his silence, piercing gaze.
"This is going to be a good time." Taking on a boxer's stance, Rampage prepared to throw his next punch as Connor took on an aggressive stance of his own. "C'mon, plastic! Let's do this!"
Impatient and absolutely worried for Connor's safety as both a detective and as a father, Hank drove along the icy streets of the dark city slowly and meticulously as he eyed his quiet phone warily on the dashboard in front of him. The app that Joel had created to visually display Connor's vital signs had a limited range that could only work within twelve feet of the deviant, but it was all Hank had as a means of tracking Connor down since deviants no longer had active trackers functioning in their software. It wasn't much of a lead, but it would have to suffice until Hank found a more effective way to locate the missing deviant before anything terrible happened to Connor.
The radio on the seat beside Hank crackled to life randomly as sporadic reports of break-ins or car accidents filled the air courtesy of dispatch. There were virtually no continuing reports on deviant related crimes or gang activity which would normally give Hank a moment of reprieve, but not on this snowy cold night. It seemed the Lieutenant had already reached a dead end.
"Damn it, kid."
Hank swore again as he turned down a seedier street in search of the missing deviant. Snow began to fall in thicker flakes and the temperature dropped another five degrees below freezing temperatures.
"Where did you go?"
The battery on Hank's phone reached a staggeringly low five percent and the active app turned itself off automatically to conserve power.
"Shit! Not now."
Hank swore as he snatched the phone from the dashboard and pocketed the now useless device angrily. Rolling down his window Hank chose to rely on his own natural instincts and intuition over technology as he continued his search for Connor.
"You better be okay, kid. If anything happened to you, I'll never forgive myself."
Covered in his own lost Thirium and the sweat of his assailant, Connor fell to the frozen, icy ground on his chest and immediately let out a pained cough as he spit out a mouthful of dark blue blood all over the partially melted snow. Laying on the painfully cold, hard ground Connor heard the 'boos' and 'jeers' of the witnessing crowd all around him as Rampage loomed over him menacingly. The vicious gang leader was waiting for the deviant to either get back up or to roll over and die. Unwilling to give up and stop fighting, Connor lifted his head and stared up at Rampage through his blurring vision as he dismissed the numerous red warnings informing him of the damage that his body had sustained.
Thirium dripped from Connor's right eye where his optical unit had been fractured from a severe blow, his eyelid partially closed due to the swelling damage. Dark blue blood stained Connor's nose and over his lips as Thirium continued to drip down his face. Fractures in the frame along his eyes and jawline seeped Thirium from damaged lines while small flickers of sparking wires illuminated the imperfections with a pale blue light.
"You had enough?" Rampage taunted as he strutted arrogantly around the downed deviant. "C'mon. You talk a big game, don't let me down now."
Rolling to his right side Connor winced in pain as fractures along the left side of his chest, marking every place a rib would be located in a human's ribcage, wept blue blood and sparked in blue within each agonizing crack of the plastimetal frame. Pushing himself up from the ground on his trembling, fractured arms covered in his own blood, Connor forced himself to stand up on his shaking damaged legs and turn to face Rampage once more.
"...What's wrong? Tired already?" Connor asked as he wiped the blood from his lip onto the back of his hand as he looked Rampage in the eyes. "Humans always were more fragile than machines. It's really a shame since you claim to be the superior species."
"You gotta' smart mouth." Rampage shook his head a little as he gave Connor a slightly amused smirk. "You're going to regret saying that."
"My words only seem smart because your entire view on life is so limited and foolish."
"Oh, ho... You got one hell of a fighting spirit, I'll give ya' that!"
Grabbing on to the back of Connor's neck Rampage held the deviant in place as he used his other fist to repeatedly punch Connor directly in the center of his chest causing the deviant to gasp for breath as each painful punch knocked the wind from his artificial lungs. A puddle of Thirium began to collect on the ground as it poured from Connor's numerous opened wounds all over his body. Rampage's knuckles were just as blue as the snowy, blood stained ground as he repeatedly struck Connor with his fists causing the battered deviant's body to collapse to the icy surface once again.
Laying on his chest in utter pain Connor dismissed the numerous warnings about his internal hemorrhaging from his damaged Thirium lines and his compromised ventilation biocomponents due to the repeated severe blows. Lifting his head up from the ground Connor, slack-jawed and bleeding, looked at Rampage standing over him as if waiting for him to die.
"How 'bout now?" Rampage asked as he panted for his own breath. "Ready to die?"
Putting his hands down against the ground Connor pushed himself up on his shaking arms and his knees before rising back up slowly, trembling violently, onto his feet.
"I'm... I'm still standing." Connor remarked confidently as blood trailed down his chin and dripped down onto his chest. "You still haven't won."
Rampage reeled his fist back once again and punched Connor's right eye for the second time causing the already partially shut eyelid to close entirely from the building damage. Falling to his knees Connor dismissed yet another warning as he felt his head begin to throb and ache from the numerous strikes he had already endured. Spitting out another mouthful of blood Connor forced himself to stand up, the effort taking more and more strength with each attempt after being knocked down, and he stood fearlessly before the bloodthirsty gang leader.
"Shit, man." Rampage watched as Connor bravely stood his ground and tried to steady himself on his trembling legs. "What the fuck are you fighting for?"
Connor thought about the question for a moment before he answered. Even when he did reply, the gang leader was just as confused.
"...I don't know."
"You don't know?" Rampage raised his right fist and wrapped his left hand around Connor's throat. "What the fuck kind of android are you?"
"I don't know that either."
"Hold up." Absentmindedly Rampage's grip around Connor's throat loosened slightly. "You challenge me to a fight - putting your life on the line - and you don't even know what the fuck it's all about?"
"No."
"But you're still fighting back."
"I'm... I'm sure there's still something worth fighting for in this city, maybe even someone worth fighting for." Connor blinked his one good eye as he felt his strength ebbing away. His voice began to waver and reverberate with an electronic echo as his consciousness began to fail him. "...My colleagues. My friends. My family."
"What the fuck kind of family does a machine have?"
"I-I used to have... a brother. He was... murdered." Connor was still bleeding and losing strength quickly as darkness encroached over his vision. "But I... still have my... father. He's worth fighting for. That much... I do know."
Rampage released his grip entirely from around Connor's throat causing the deviant to collapse to the ground with heavy 'thud'. Falling backward and laying partially on his back and his left side, blue blood puddled under Connor's body and collected like in a sapphire blossom all around the broken deviant. Whatever strength Connor had left inside of him wasn't enough to prompt the deviant to get back up for another round.
One of the gang members whistled and threw Rampage his gun.
"Finish it off, Rampage! Blow that fucker away!"
"Deal's a deal, plastic." Rampage caught his gun and pointed the barrel down between Connor's eyes without hesitation. "You're down. I win."
As Rampage's thumb pulled back the hammer and his finger hovered over the trigger a gruff voice from behind caused Rampage to freeze.
"DETROIT POLICE. DROP THE WEAPON." Hank approached the gang leader from behind with his own gun drawn and aimed at the back of Rampage's head. Any sign of sickness that Hank may have been exhibiting from his cold had been perfectly masked behind an authoritative tone of voice. "BACK AWAY FROM HIM. NOW."
Rampage dropped the gun and raised his hands slowly as he took a few steps back and stepped to the side away from Connor. Motioning silently with just his the gang leader ordered his surrounding gang to flee from the hideout while he stayed behind to give them the chance to flee.
"I already called for back-up." Hank stated fearlessly as he focused on Connor and not the gang members retreating into the darkness. "They won't get far."
Despite Hank's warning the gang dispersed rapidly into the night in a desperate bid to avoid being arrested.
"Connor?" Cautiously Hank knelt down on the ground beside Connor and slipped his hand beneath the deviant's head and studied the slowly blinking red tinted L.E.D. in his temple. The sight of the bleeding fractures all over Connor's body was enough to make Hank's own blood boil. "Wake up, kid! Don't do this to me!"
Without the artificial skin to hold thin Thirium lines against the external frame Hank couldn't find a pulse but he could still check for a heartbeat. Pressing his ear down against Connor's broken, bleeding chest Hank held his own breath as he heard the slow, steady rhythm of the beating of Connor's Thirium pump, his heart, within the battered and bleeding chest.
"Hang on for me, I'll get you some help."
"You know this thing?" Rampage asked as he remained where he stood, almost fascinated by what he was seeing. "Is it police property or some shit?"
"Fuck that." Hank turned around abruptly and aimed his gun at Rampage's chest as he planted himself between the gang leader and Connor laying on the ground behind him. "He's my son, you piece of shit."
That response was almost as shocking as Connor's previous comments.
"...Your son?"
"Yeah." Quickly Hank raised his gun from Rampage's chest to his head. "You gotta' problem with that?"
"Nah, man. I got a son, too." The revelation somehow made Rampage seem less cruel despite being covered in blood and sweat. The gang leader pointed to a name tattooed on his chest right over his heart and held his hand there for a moment. "I get it. I'd do anything to protect my boy."
The reply wasn't one that Hank had expected. Lowering his gun entirely Hank motioned for Rampage to turn around as he pulled the cuffs from his belt and cuffed Rampage's hands behind his back.
"What the fuck happened out here?"
"He came out here lookin' for a fight." Calling Connor a 'he' and not 'it' or 'plastic' showed that Rampage had his eyes opened by that night's events. "I just accepted. No more, no less."
"Bullshit!"
"Ask him yourself." Rampage turned around and watched as Hank returned to Connor's side and shrugged off his coat to drape it over the deviant's broken body. The white plastimetal frame was covered in bloodied fractures that required immediate technical attention and looked horrifically painful to endure. "That guy's got a lot of heart for a machine."
"He's NOT a machine!" Bitterly Hank argued as he pressed his hand down against the center of Connor's chest to track his heartbeat. "He's-"
A sharp coughing stopped Hank short as Connor regained consciousness and opened his one good eye. Focusing on Hank leaning over him for only a moment Connor shifted his gaze away to look at Rampage still standing, still waiting for the fight to continue. Sitting up slowly Connor pushed aside Hank's hand and the coat as he used the last of his strength to stand back up for the final time as he refused to give up despite the odds stacked against him.
"Connor, no." Hank tried to keep the deviant down, but Connor stubbornly refused to comply. "Lay down, damn it! You're-"
"I-I'm..." Connor's voice was stammering and thick with static as he addressed Rampage courageously. Standing before the arrested gang member Connor looked him right in the eye and forced his voice to level out. "I'm st-still standing."
"Yeah." Rampage smiled a little at the comment as a newfound respect was forged between himself and the deviant detective. As a show of respect Rampage took hold of Connor's wrist and raised the deviant's hand into the air victoriously. "You are. You win, Connor."
Hank's brow furrowed with utter confusion at the exchange of words between Connor and Rampage. Before he had the chance to ask anything Connor nodded subtly to show his own newfound respect and slowly walked away from the fight; his blood stained white plastimetal frame slowly being covered under his pale and scarred artificial skin as he walked away. The artificial skin had such little power due to the tremendous blood loss and had left Connor sporting a paler complexion as the plastimetal frame was still somewhat visible through the slightly translucent layer. It was hard to see Connor as anything less than a battered, seasoned and dedicated detective.
"Fuck..." Confused and shaken Hank swore in a breathy whisper as the regenerating skin also emphasized the horrific beating that the deviant had willingly subjected himself to. "Connor, what the hell is wrong with you?"
"That's what I asked." Rampage turned to watch the deviant walking away from the fight and gave Hank an odd look. "You said he's your son and he said he had a father to fight for. Guess that means he was fighting for you."
Hank coldly ignored Rampage as drones and a squad car pulled up to the scene to assist Hank with the arrest. Another officer would have to deal with Rampage at the moment as Hank still needed to deal with Connor. The senior detective needed to figure out what the hell was wrong with the deviant detective before it escalated into something that was a hell of a lot worse than a wagered street fight.
Weak, tired and in nearly debilitating pain, Connor sluggishly limped down the cold dark sidewalk with his arms wrapped protectively around his bruised, battered chest as the stinging cold threatened to slice through his already thin skin like a knife. Wandering with an aimless trajectory into the darkness of the surrounding city, Connor was only just aware of a single car pulling up along the sidewalk beside him and stopping abruptly. He hadn't summoned an autonomous taxi, and no one else had known that he had been in the neighborhood. As far as Connor was concerned the car that had stopped beside him was filled with anti-android gang members who were there to finish him off.
Waiting for the gunshots to ring out and for bullets to tear through his body, Connor closed his eyes as he continued to walk down the dark sidewalk to a place unknown. There was no reason to stop, yet there was no reason to keep going. In Connor's mind, his actions and decisions were finally going to showcase their drastic repercussions against his very person.
"Connor!"
Hank threw open his car door and rushed over to the deviant on the sidewalk. Wrapping Connor's previously abandoned leather jacket around the deviant's trembling shoulders Hank held Connor in place for a moment.
"Damn it, what the fuck were you THINKING?!"
Freezing in place Connor remained quiet and didn't have the nerve to look Hank in the eyes. Having been yelled at by Hank when he was still a machine had no effect on Connor's mind or confidence, but now hearing Hank yelling at him as a deviant had an unexpected effect on his psyche. Unable to respond, almost afraid to speak, Connor stayed silent and waited for Hank to finish reprimanding him.
"Get your ass in the car!"
Furiously Hank pushed Connor from the sidewalk and over to the passenger side of the car. Pulling open the door Hank forced the deviant to sit down and didn't even wait for a response before slamming the door shut. As soon as Hank returned to his own seat behind the wheel he pulled the car away from the sidewalk and headed toward home.
"Connor, what's going on with you? What were you trying to prove by getting a FIGHT?"
Silence remained Connor's steadfast reply as he coldly stared at the floor of the car beneath his feet.
Still shaking with fear, adrenaline and anger Hank looked over at Connor and could see the emotional pain on his face just as easily as he could see the physical pain. Connor was confused, he was scared, and he was at a total loss of what he had just been through.
The blue blood dripped from Connor's nose and lips and onto his lap. The other wounds bled profusely and stained into the fabric of the leather jacket and Connor's already waning strength began fading away at a frightening pace. Inside and out, Connor was in pain.
"Look, son," immediately Hank softened his tone and took a deep breath to calm himself. "I'm not mad at you, okay? I was just... freaked out. You disappeared without a trace and when I found you it was in a dangerous neighborhood. You're covered in your own blood and surrounded by anti-android gang members. What the hell happened tonight?"
Unwilling to speak up because of a strange emotional reason that Connor couldn't comprehend he sat quietly as Hank drove away from the dangerous neighborhood and to the nearest facility.
"Talk to me, damn it. I don't want to have a technician tell me something secondhand."
"...No technician." Connor finally stated as he continued to stare blankly at the floor beneath his feet. His voice was reverberating with an electronic echo and sounded painful just to speak. "Please."
"You're damaged." The bleeding fractures along Connor's arms and all down his chest had created spreading bruises under his artificial skin that would take days to heal. Hank didn't need to be a technician to know that Connor was going to be suffering from his foolish behavior for quite some time. "You need help."
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not." Hank gently stopped the car and pulled up alongside the sidewalk in an abrupt jerk. Turning off the engine he turned and looked at the stubborn deviant with a paternal stare. "What's the matter, son?"
"I don't..." Trailing off for a moment Connor closed his eyes and refused to look at Hank. "I don't know."
"Yes you do."
Connor resumed his silence as he found himself at a total loss for words.
"Okay, I won't push you." Turning over the engine again Hank pulled the car back onto the street to head for home. "But we are going to talk about this later."
Accepting what Hank had said without saying a word himself, Connor busied himself chronicling his numerous injuries cybernetically and focused his self-healing program accordingly. The drive back to the house remained stubbornly silent save for Hank's occasional weak cough or attempt to clear some building congestion from his throat. The silence, however, would be missed as soon as the two detectives were back home where it was warm and safe.
It wasn't until Hank got a clear look at Connor's swollen, bruised, bleeding face in proper lighting in the middle of the kitchen that his anger resurfaced.
"Look at me." Gingerly Hank put his hand under Connor's blood stained chin and tilted the deviant's head slowly from side to side as he inspected the damage. The sight of Connor's practically destroyed right eye made a sense of rage well up inside of him. "Why in the hell would you let him do that to you?"
Connor darted his one good eye away from Hank with unexplainable guilt.
"Answer me." Hank let go of Connor's chin and took a step backward in frustration as the deviant remained painfully quiet. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."
"...What does it matter?" Connor finally replied with a dreary somber voice. "I'm a machine. I can be replaced by another model."
"Wrong. Nothing can replace you."
"Something can and will. If I were to die tonight nothing in this world would change, I'd just be another broken machine left to rust in a junkyard."
"Wait, are you... Is this an existential crisis?"
"Admit it. I'm nothing more than a tool at the precinct and someone for you to talk to at home. No one sees me as me." Staring down at his shaking hand Connor clenched it into a tight fist and sighed with utter defeat in his breath. "I'm no one. I'm nothing."
"Hold it. Where in the hell did THAT come from?"
"No one listens to me. Sometimes it's like no one even hears me."
"You know something?" The revelation struck a chord with the senior detective. He turned around slowly as he reached into the freezer to get a bag of ice and gently pressed the bag against Connor's right eye. With a heavy heart Hank reluctantly admitted that Connor was right. "I didn't notice it until tonight, but you're right. But you're also wrong."
"I don't understand." The deviant looked at Hank with confusion and pain in his good eye. "How can I be right and wrong at the same time?"
"Tonight, I went to look for you and I checked at the precinct first. No one saw you and when I was talking with Fowler, he admitted that had a bad habit of thinking of you as a machine before seeing you as a detective. But that doesn't mean everyone does."
Connor just stared at Hank through his one good eye as he put his hand over the offered bag of ice and began pressing it against his sore right eye himself.
"I don't see you like that." Dropping his hand from the ice Hank stared at the deviant with a sincere understanding. "Connor, you're not a machine. You are alive, you really are." Hank tried to give Connor a reassuring grin, but the gesture felt hollow. "You're more human than most humans; empathetic, sympathetic, kind, generous, patient, brave, annoyingly curious sometimes, and a little naive. But most importantly you're STUBBORN. And there's nothing you can say to change my mind about that."
"That's how you really see me?" Ignoring the hypocrisy of Hank's comment about stubbornness Connor pressed the matter at hand a little further. "Then why don't you listen to me?"
"Simple. I don't listen to ANYBODY." The man shrugged his shoulders a little as he spoke in a lighthearted manner. "Never have. Doubt I ever will. I just don't like to be told what to do and I don't like people giving me their advice. Kinda' like you..."
"No, it's not that simple." Connor was still unconvinced despite Hank's promising words. "Your own personality is a poor mirror if you're attempting to reflect my own."
"And you can be a smartass. There's more proof of your humanity - proof that you're alive and can really feel."
"I don't feel human."
"You look human, you sound human, and you act human."
"I'm not human and I never can be. No matter how many times you say it I'll always be a machine." A strange sense of despair welled up from within Connor's heart as he stared at the senior detective standing before him. "And no matter how many times I want to believe it or how many times you say it, I can never really be your son."
"Bullshit." Refusing to let Connor tear apart everything he had earned, Hank reminded Connor of what made them a family. "The color of your blood doesn't dictate how I see you and how I want you to be a part of my life. You're my son, end of story. No argument."
"I'm just plastic and metal." Holding up his hand where his artificial skin was struggling to fully regenerate Connor just stared at his appendage with dismay. "Just look at this. I'm not human and I never will be."
"That doesn't matter. You're still my son and nothing will ever make me see things differently." Hank stifled a weak cough as he sat down at the small kitchen table and motioned for Connor to do the same. "When I saw you lying unconscious in a puddle of your own blood with that guy pointing his gun at your head I was as fuckin' scared as I was the night that I lost Cole."
"I still don't understand." Connor's brow furrowed a little as he slowly sat down at the table next to Hank, a smear of blue blood was left on the floor where he had been standing as it dripped from his person. "When you saw me, I didn't have my artificial skin activated."
"Yeah, so what?"
"You've never seen me without my artificial skin before. At least, not entirely."
"Yeeeah?" Hank dragged out the word to emphasize his confusion. "What about it?"
"And you still recognized me?"
"Obviously."
"How did you know it was me? How did you know that it wasn't me and not another random deviant?"
"Like I said Connor, you're my son." Hank raised his hand to peel back the ice from Connor's face just enough to look at Connor's poor eye with a painfully empathetic glance. "A father always knows his own son."
As if a dam had burst Connor felt tears stream down his face causing him to put his hand over his eyes as he pressed his forehead into his palm and leaned his elbow atop the kitchen table. What felt like a massive weight in his heart suddenly lifted away allowing it to beat without any strain or pressure as he began to feel something beyond self-loathing or doubt.
"I'm s-sorry!"
"It's okay, kid." Sympathetically Hank put his hand to the deviant's shoulder as Connor began to silently sob with heavy emotion that he had been restraining for far too long. "We all have our emotional breaking point. I reached mine the night I lost Cole and I refused to acknowledge any emotion outside of anger for three damn years before I met you. Trust me, I'm an expert on emotional problems!"
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
The violent trembling under his palm made Hank wince. "For what?"
"For running off!" Connor took a deep breath to try to calm himself down, but the effort was seemingly in vain as his voice continued to shudder. "For being mad at you! For putting myself in danger! For being a bad son!"
"Whoa, easy... You're NOT a bad son." Hank sincerely soothed as he shook Connor's shoulder lightly. "It's okay. We all make mistakes, it's a part of being human. Shit, that's WHY the whole world is so fucked up. Humans are still in charge and we're still making mistakes."
"I wish I knew what to do." The emotionally unstable deviant admitted sadly as he fought back his tears just long enough to speak more clearly. "I've tried so hard to understand deviancy, to understand what it means to be alive, but... I just feel like I'm falling behind while everyone around me is moving forward."
"You can't keep comparing yourself to other deviants. You're NOT like them and you never will be. You're your own person."
"What kind of person am I? What kind of person should I strive to become?"
"That..." The question made Hank sigh a little and he gave Connor an odd smile. "That's completely up to you. But if you want my opinion-"
"Yes." Connor answer quickly as he locked his good eye onto Hank. "Please!"
"I think you're already on the right track. Like I told you before, you're more human than most humans, and you're a GOOD one at that. Better than most of the humans I work with."
"I don't feel good." Connor admitted as he gently put his hand to his stomach as a knot settled inside his battered torso. His red tinted L.E.D. began to blink rapidly in response to his artificial stomach beginning to initiate the emergency expulsion program. "I... I don't feel good at all. In every sense of the word."
"Sick?"
Connor nodded to confirm Hank's question as the ice bag was left on the table and the bloody coat fell from his shoulders.
"Well, that makes two of us." Moving swiftly Hank rose from the table and pulled Connor up by his arm to lead the deviant to the bathroom just a few feet down the hallway. The deviant moved slowly courtesy of his aching damage points and sudden nausea. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and bandaged up so you can rest."
"Wh-What about you?" Connor asked weakly as he fought back the urge to throw-up the excess Thirium that collected in his artificial stomach. "You still have a cold and your exposure to the snowy weather will only exasperate your current condition."
"Remember what I said about a bullet wound being more serious than a cold?" Hank asked as he pushed open the bathroom door and guided Connor down to the floor slowly to kneel in front of the toilet. "Specifically, how a bullet wound will always outweigh a cold?"
"Y-Yes." The trembling deviant replied as he knelt down and began to retch painfully as the effort strained his damaged chest and torso in the process of the painful but necessary act. "...I remember."
"Same principle applies to getting in a street fight."
The senior detective joked as he waited for Connor to finish being sick. Keeping a hand on Connor's back Hank held him as steady as possible until the vomiting spell passed. The sight of the faint scars under his palm made Hank want to throw-up as well, but for Connor's sake he stayed strong.
"Are you sure you don't want to go see a technician? You're in pretty rough shape."
Connor nodded weakly as he spat out the lingering foul Thirium from his mouth with a heavy grimace.
"All right. Now, hold still." Placing a washcloth under the warm tap in the sink Hank wrung out the excess water and used it to wipe the lingering blue blood from Connor's patchy skin and clean out the exposed fractures in the plastimetal frame. "This is probably going to sting a little."
As soon as the warmed fabric made contact with the raw wounds in his back Connor physically tensed and let out a hissing groan of pain.
"Sorry."
"N-Not your fault."
"If I go and get some gauze, can you clean up your injuries yourself?"
"Yes." Nodding again Connor took the washcloth and proceeded to cleanse off the rest of his artificial skin in a slow meticulous manner. "I can do this."
"Okay. Sit tight."
With a hearty pat to the shoulder Hank stepped out of the bathroom to retrieve the larger android first aid kit stored in the hallway closet as they'd need a lot of bandages and incrassation compound. As he carried the plastic box back into the bathroom, he watched Connor struggling to tend to his wounds without wincing in the process as the numerous fractures and bleeding lines were raw from the fight.
"Maybe a cool washcloth would feel better?"
"It won't make a difference."
"Stay kneeling on the floor but straighten up your posture. I need to clean up your back and shoulders."
Obediently Connor did as he was instructed and remained perfectly still as Hank wrapped the gauze around his chest and worked his way down to the deviant's abdomen. It was a slow process but beneficial to Connor's body and to Hank's mind. The bandages would help absorb any residual blood and give Connor's destabilized plastimetal frame some external support and keep the fractures from widening before the deviant's self-healing program could repair the damage. Once the protective bandages were in place Hank placed another washcloth under the cold tap and then pressed it slowly against Connor's eye.
"Hold that there, kid. It hurts to just look at."
"I didn't hurt that much compared to the actual beating itself." Connor's hand reached up and held the washcloth firmly against his damaged eye. "I feel very tired."
"Me too. Good thing it's not my first time wrapping up another cop's busted ribs." Cautiously the senior detective watched as Connor's good eye struggled to remain open as the deviant fought to coordinate his self-healing program. Rest mode would have to wait for a while longer. "Are you completely sure you don't want to go to a facility?" Stifling a small cough Hank cleared his throat and ignored his cold for the sake of Connor's condition. "I don't mind driving for you."
"I'm sure. I'll be okay now."
"Yeah, I know you will." Hank smiled warmly as sat down on the floor next to Connor, his back pressing up against the side of the cool bathtub and put his hand to the deviant's shaking shoulder. "We both will be okay."
Falling from his knees and backward onto the floor, Connor sat beside Hank and wrapped his arms around his bandaged but still sore abdomen and chest in a protective manner. Neither detective had the energy or the motivation to get up and go anywhere else that night.
"Hank?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for coming after me."
"You're welcome, son." Wrapping his arm around Connor's shoulders Hank gently pulled the wounded deviant over against his side for a half hug as the two breathed a collective sigh of relief. "I'll always find a way to bring you back home if you need me. That's what fathers do."
-next chapter-
