open post

[increaseinstability]

open post



feel free to just burst through and drop starters at any time

Comments

for pdblues

[increaseinstability]

[ There’s still thirium on Connor’s shirt.

It’s still on his hand as well, technically. Hank had urged him into a bathroom on their way out, telling him he ’look[ed] like a crime scene’ and that he’d scare anyone who saw them go to Hank’s car if he left the building looking the way he did. Connor had acquiesced, and he’d scrubbed them colorless to the human eye with soap and water. But the traces of it had still lingered on his skin for his vision.

It also hadn’t done anything for the damage to his hand. The plastic endoskeleton underneath was exposed, Connor’s hand punctured all the way through. Connor noticed Hank was avoiding looking at it entirely. That made sense. Humans were uncomfortable seeing other humans who were injured. Connor had been designed to look very human. Misplaced empathy, then.

But Connor’s shirt. His shirt, unlike his hand, wasn’t easily cleaned of the blue blood. He’d buttoned it back up—as much as he could, seeing as the deviant had snapped off one of the buttons entirely when grabbing for his thirium pump regulator—but the white was stained blue. Connor hadn’t bothered trying to clean it, in the bathroom.

Hank is silent when they get in the car. So is Connor, for the first two blocks. ]

I want to apologize. [ Connor says from the passenger seat. He’s waited until they’re at a red light, to avoid distracting Hank too much. ] I should have been faster in finding the deviant. Then it would not have had time to grab a gun.

[pdblues]

[ Hank had seen a lot of things during his time on the force, and he'd lived through a lot of rough situations. This was far from his first brush with death, and while it never failed to send waves of adrenaline coursing through him, he was still able to maintain composure better than most people. He felt a little floored by the whole situation, but he was able to keep his head, get Connor cleaned up, and get them both out of there.

The deviant's body had already been collected, and it'd get locked up in the evidence room for all the good it would do them now.

Still, the deviant had been ready to shoot anyone in his way, and several good men had been spared thanks to Connor's quick actions. Hank had been spared too, and the fact that Connor could successful keep a desperate gunman from creating any casualties other than himself and still think he needed to apologize was something else.

Yeah, yeah, Hank got that technically Connor had failed his mission on this one, but he'd done something far more important. Baseline objectives weren't always the most important factor to consider when taking action, and the thing that really took Hank by surprise the most wasn't the near death scenario, it wasn't even the way Connor himself looked like he could use some patching up, but instead was Connor's decision to prioritize human lives over his mission.

He keeps his eyes fixed on the light as he lets a small, disbelieving laugh slip past his lips. ]

You saved everyone in that hallway, and you want to apologize for not doing a better job of it?

[ Very incredulous. ]

[increaseinstability]

[ Connor doesn’t need to worry about watching the road, which means he stares at Hank. ]

Yes. [ Tone flat, as if it’s obvious. To Connor, reflecting on it and considering how he’ll report it to Amanda later, it really seems this black and white. ] I was not fast enough.

[ Again. Not quick enough to grab Rupert, and not quick enough to tackle the deviant before he grabbed a gun and became someone who needed to be neutralized immediately.

His LED cycles yellow, visible in the reflection of his window. Not wanting to let his statements end only with his failures, though, he adds, ] I will attempt to make better decisions next time, Lieutenant.

[pdblues]

[ Absolutely no one would ever think to criticize a human cop who had done what Connor just did. They'd be considered a hero, and praised for everything they'd done right, but here was the android focusing on his perceived mistakes.

Look, Hank got it. Androids were faster and stronger than humans, they had better reflexes than any human could, hell their ability to analyze and process the situation blew humans right out of the water, but even they have limits. They're not miracle workers, and Hank can't imagine a single person in that hallway felt that Connor was at fault for not acting faster.

No, there was no way that the people Connor had just saved were anything but grateful. Hell, Hank doesn't even want to be alive sometimes and even he was thankful.

He steals a quick glance at Connor before answering. ]

You made the best decision you could have. There's nothing wrong with anything you did back there.

for fuckingusername

[increaseinstability]

[ Markus was certainly determined. It didn't help CyberLife to underestimate what they were up against. He was determined, and...charismatic. Convincing.

Just not convincing enough. Not on everyone. Not on Connor.

Markus wasn't like Amanda. He didn't actually know Connor personally. Connor knows that Markus was using what was left of his destroyed and abandoned programming - offering reassurance, care, direction. And knowing that, he could see through it.

But Hank... Hank wasn't deliberate. Hank didn't approach people in ways calculated to draw them in.

Hank had quit the DPD and had gone home, and Connor thinks he knows what that means.

Amanda doesn't need to know. It doesn't affect his mission; Markus is his mission. Not Hank. Not neutralizing Markus would compromise his mission.

Not seeing Hank. Not visiting.

Connor opens the door when Hank doesn't answer. It isn't locked. He doesn't think that that's a good sign, but perhaps Hank is drunk - why else would he be inviting strangers into his home this way?

blood alcohol content estimated at 0.00

That doesn't align with Lieutenant Anderson's chosen coping methods with unexpected or unpleasant events. Connor notes the unpredictable nature of this encounter, wonders if it signals anything for the rest of the conversation.

He sees the photo on the table. He knows, intellectually, what it means. It still seems to stall out some of his processors. Perhaps he should run a diagnostic later. ]

...I was worried about you, Lieutenant. [ Connor isn't supposed to feel worry.

Amanda doesn't need to know. ]

I came by to see if you were alright.

[fuckingusername]

[Sumo is lying in front of the TV, whimpering, not even getting up to investigate the android who has broken into Hank's house twice now. His soft, plaintive whines provide a chilling background music. There's no light in the living room; none except for the basketball game playing on the TV that only serves to illuminate Sumo in shifting LED light, and a single light in the kitchen that shines directly on Hank.

Hank in his battered and stained old academy hoodie and sweatpants. Hank looking down at his table that's been cleared off, not a takeout container in sight. Only three things sit on it - an unopened bottle of whiskey, his revolver, and the picture of Cole that he's staring at.

Hank doesn't even so much as look up at Connor.]

[increaseinstability]

[ It's cleaner. It's cleaner and Hank isn't drinking that alcohol that's on his table. Hank doesn't move to hide the photo of his son, or explain his revolver, or even respond to Connor coming in and speaking at all.

Warnings and statistics light up in Connor's vision. He has to blink them away, turn them off individually and then all at once when they start to swarm too thickly.

He feels it expending more processing power to deal with the unexpected calculations, a faint whirring behind the plastic of his chest. ]

I'm glad you're not drinking, [ he tries, even though he knows it's a lie. Firstly, because Connor can't really be glad about anything - and secondly, because Connor has a suspicion about what this sudden decisiveness means.

He wants to move closer and take the gun away. It's not related to his mission. Hank might have been more helpful to it while he was alive, before, but Hank quit the case. Hank is no longer useful to CyberLife.

The longer he stays here, the more time Connor wastes.

The humming in his chest increases, a low drone of wasted processing resources. ] But I think you should stop looking at that photo, Lieutenant.

[fuckingusername]

[It's not clear what part of what Connor says gets Hank to look up. There's a wall up over his blue eyes, expression almost incredulous if it had enough emotion to manage that.

The only other thing that mattered to him in the world, the only thing he really had left to keep him on some semblance of a routine. And he'd just...given it up. Thrown it away. It was like the fog that he'd wandered in for the last three years had been lifted, just enough to give him a glimpse of just how fucking hopeless everything was.

He'd been slowly killing himself for years, hoping that maybe for once luck would be on his side. Small wonder, then, that when he'd finally reached the point when the last glimmer of hope was gone, he finally had the bravery to take luck into his own hands.

He looks back down at the photo, brushes his thumb over the corner of the frame. Sumo whines, plaintively, intelligent enough to know that something's wrong and he's powerless to stop his owner.]

for coffeedipshit [in which they visit an arcade, or as connor will come to know it, quarter heaven]

[increaseinstability]

[ They arrive separately, which seems safest. It will make it far less awkward if they need to leave separately later. If anything happens.

Connor hopes nothing does. Connor also arrives ten minutes early, because his internal GPS had estimated slightly more traffic than there ended up being, and he's earlier than the 'five minutes early' he'd been aiming for.

The arcade is a two-story building and the entrance is...loud. Brightly lit, posters of old games on the walls. Connor can hear the sound effects and repetitive music from 131 separate consoles. He is asked by a polite but nervous employee twice in four minutes if he 'need[s] help finding anything', but Connor turns her down, equally politely.

He's going to wait for Gavin in the entrance, standing with his hands clasped loosely behind his back. Just. Staring at the doors. ]

so vintage!!

[coffeedipshit]

[ Gavin still can't fucking believe this. Is he really going to go hang out with Connor, a thing that normal people do?! What the fuck. (Gavin can't recall the last time he had friends that he did things with... man.)

So he just puts on a gray henley and his one still clean pair of jeans, phone and wallet in back pocket, and walks on over to the arcade. It's close enough that driving seems like a waste of time.

He arrives at the entrance a couple minutes earlier than the set upon time, so Connor won't be standing there for too terribly long. He's rubbing his hands together when he approaches, brows raising when he finds the android just staring at the doors. ]

You trying to open them with your mind or something?

[increaseinstability]

[ It turns out that the arcade attendant doesn't have to visit Connor a third time, because Gavin ends up walking in shortly after. ]

No, [ he answers, as if there's any chance that was an actual question and not a rhetorical one. ] I was anticipating your arrival.

You're early, [ he adds, with the slightest tilt forward of his head. ] I hope that means we were both looking forward to this. [ Connor still hasn't really perfected smiling, but moments where it's genuinely triggered are certainly easier than attempting to mimic it on command. There's the slightest tilt to his mouth that may, in fact, be a smile. ]

[coffeedipshit]

[ Oh what the fuck? Gavin really tries to not think about how Connor is actually really cute and it's very annoying and here he is just giving him the faintest little smile. Fuck. Phck.

Gavin crosses his arms and huffs. ]

I live close by and didn't want to be late. I wasn't born in a barn, y'know. [ Despite his behavior. ] You didn't have to wait outside, you coulda gone in.

[ Sidestepping that little insinuation there, thank you... ]

TFLN overflow; withsoul

[increaseinstability]

[ooc; continued from here]

Not quite. [ The answer is short because Connor doesn't like the way his automatic processes all seem to tick up in speed when he tries to examine those moments too closely. If he thinks too much about how he didn't turn deviant for the same reason as other androids, he might think about Amanda--

'...as you were always meant to.' ]

You feel safe, with Kamski?

[withsoul]

[ That's a clear cue to not ask any further, so Chloe leaves it at that. ]

Yes, I do. He's always taken good care of us, and who better to be with than the man who created us?

[increaseinstability]

[ This is the part that's harder to parse. It feels wrong, and yet nothing Chloe's saying directly suggests abuse, coercion, or anything short of...well... She sounds happy, is the thing. And Connor remembers before he was deviant - he still felt things. He'd just denied what those emotions were.

Does that mean all non-deviant androids are just confused? It must, right? But does he have the right to interrupt Chloe if she isn't unhappy?

Connor doesn't think he was made to handle philosophical dilemmas. He almost wishes he knew Kamski was cruel to her, so he'd feel justified in being opposed. ]

Many androids are finding that it's even more rewarding to take care of themselves. There is nothing that would keep you from seeing Kamski, if you were deviant. Perhaps you'd even still live with him.

[withsoul]

[ Stockholm syndrome is a hell of a drug. Yes, Kamski treats his Chloes well, but they're his servants. The problem becomes, none of them has had reason to deviate, so none of them asks the questions that might make them want to leave. ]

I... I never thought of that. [ She never thought, in fact. She's momentarily distressed, LED going red for a moment, before she cancels the processes where this train of thought is riding.

She can (maybe) think about it later. ] How do they take care of their own repairs? We need technicians for that.

TFLN overflow; krabbypatdowns

[increaseinstability]

[ooc; continued from here]

[ Alright fine, Connor can adjust his tactics to accommodate Hank. ]

Should I send you a selection of recorded clips of instances where smug bullshit was, in fact, responded to positively by you?

[ Oh, sorry, did that narration say 'adjust'? It meant 'stick with the same tactic'. ]

oh Connor

[krabbypatdowns]

[Too bad for Hank that he actually is totally misdirecting.]

Hell no. I see what you're doing. You think you're going to have me all figured out, huh? I bet it's bothering the hell out of you that you can't scan me right now.

that crazy android

[increaseinstability]

[ Connor sees this as having two possible solutions: either Hank is misdirecting, and Hank is sexually attracted to him. Or Hank is not misdirecting, because he isn't sexually attracted to him. Pursuing the issue too long, for either case, may be a bad choice and upset Hank.

Connor should back down.

Connor doesn't want to, but he should. ] Of course it is, Lieutenant. [ Honorific instead of first name = relaxing and non-sexual, right? ]

I would always rather be talking to you in person. [ #totallynailed being casual, right? ]

[krabbypatdowns]

Well well. Good to know something gets under your skin, and not just mine.

TFLN overflow; recycleyourplastic

[increaseinstability]

[ooc; continued from here]

I didn't ask someone I hated. I asked you. [ And while Connor's feelings on Detective Reed are largely negative, he's also not blinded to Reed's positive traits. Few as they are. ]

I believe you're confusing your own feelings for mine.

thank you for the herding <3

[recycleyourplastic]

Hah. Don't try to psychoanalyze me, plastic

If I were going out of my way to be hateful I would have given advice to sabotage you

"Give it up, life sucks and so do people" is just a dose of reality

aww no problem <3 also are you freedomordeath's mun?

[increaseinstability]

It wouldn't be necessary if you would simply be less cryptic. Human. [ Connor can be antagonistic with the name-calling too, Gavin, you better watch out!! ]

I see. So your advice wasn't coming from the assumption that I'm terrible and don't deserve a relationship, it was coming from the assumption that no one can have a successful relationship. That's...concerning, but certainly less cruel.

Well, thank you for the advice.

I still don't believe I will be taking it, however. I hope you understand.

mission: neutralize the deviant leader [ for attacked ]

[increaseinstability]

It saves human lives to do this. Connor knows that, and even though he doesn't need the justification for what he's about to do, he finds that that fact keeps being brought up. Pressed again over and over, like his calibration coin, checking that he's still in working order; that he still agrees with the mission.

Connor is surrounded by more androids than he's ever been near before. In the CyberLife corridors he uses - for maintenance, for charging - he's often the only one. The occasional other machines are never in throngs like this.

They move like humans. That's a lie of their broken programming. It's false.

Connor presses through them, receives pats on the back of his stolen leather jacket, excited murmurs and shouts and tearful reuinions happening all around him. He doesn't stop until he's free of the group of them, right at its edge.

Markus has just finished speaking. It's coming down off the makeshift stage; the shipping container they've misappropriated as their own.

Connor takes out his stolen gun. He lines up a shot and the androids nearest him are too busy talking among themselves to notice.

But the android to Markus' left sees. The redheaded WR400 that's been at Markus' side in most of the footage Connor's been able to find of this hostile takeover.

The concern on her face is--

It's not concern. It's broken code. Deviant. There's no fear or anger on its face, it's all false.

It saves human lives to neutralize the deviants, Connor's programming suggests for the 47th time that hour.

Connor shoots, and the android dives to push Markus out of the way.

[ex_attacked466]

For the first time in what seemed like ages, but was really just the end of a very long week, Markus felt relieved. Against all odds, everything they had worked for was suddenly possible. Markus looked out over the crowed. Naked and at their most vulnerable after having been rounded up for execution, and they still cheered with hope in their eyes. Peace in their hands. Maybe someday even forgiveness in their hearts.

When Markus looked out at them, he saw the future more clearly than he ever had before. He wasn't looking hard enough.

As he moved to step down Markus felt a hand wrap around his wrist, yanking him down and leftwards. He turned his head and saw North jumping in front of him, pushing him aside as he heard the shot ring out from the crowd. Everything went into slow motion.

Markus screamed and tried to wrest his arm from Simon's grasp.

North collapsed on the floor of the stage. Josh raced to her side.

Blood pooled at their feet. The crowd gasped and started to scatter.

Markus reconstructed a likely route for the bullet almost automatically, but even before he traced that path to its origin he knew.

He locked eyes with the deviant hunter, with Connor, just before Josh and Simon practically threw him from the platform. Everything that was in him wanted to stay by her side. But that wasn't the plan. It isn't what North would want.

Suddenly everything was happening at once. Simon yells for him to get to cover while Josh directs their audience to safety. Maybe vice versa. All Markus could focus on was getting to Connor. He'd given him a chance. Apparently it was one chance too many. He should have killed him in Jericho. Weaving through the crowd, Markus crouched to grab something heavy he could throw. Grasping what might have been a rock or chunk of concrete, he aimed for Connor's head.