connor [ the android sent by cyberlife ] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
increaseinstability) wrote2018-07-18 03:01 pm
increaseinstability) wrote2018-07-18 03:01 pm
open post
feel free to just burst through and drop starters at any time
feel free to just burst through and drop starters at any time
[ 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.
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.
[ 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. ]
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. ]
[ 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.
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.
Edited (reconsidered, added more, sorry) 2018-07-21 22:55 (UTC)
[ 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.
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.
[ Connor is starting to think that maybe he shouldn't discuss this with Hank. Amanda will have better input about what he could have done differently. Amanda—
Amanda would have wanted him to charge the deviant to disarm it, risking it shooting other occupants in the room as he moved towards it. Or she would have wanted him to shoot its hands, disarm it from a distance without irreparable damage. Why hadn't Connor done that? Because he'd wanted—
Connor doesn't want things.
Because he'd seen that Hank had a 40% chance of survival and he felt—
Connor doesn't feel things, either.
...Maybe he shouldn't talk to Amanda about it just yet.
Connor doesn't know how to respond to Hank about this anymore. He's been staring at the dashboard ahead of him, and now he looks down at his hands. At the hole punctured right through one of them, the way the edges are ragged plastic instead of the false human-colored skin he has over the rest of him. ] I'm glad you're satisfied, Hank.
Amanda would have wanted him to charge the deviant to disarm it, risking it shooting other occupants in the room as he moved towards it. Or she would have wanted him to shoot its hands, disarm it from a distance without irreparable damage. Why hadn't Connor done that? Because he'd wanted—
Connor doesn't want things.
Because he'd seen that Hank had a 40% chance of survival and he felt—
Connor doesn't feel things, either.
...Maybe he shouldn't talk to Amanda about it just yet.
Connor doesn't know how to respond to Hank about this anymore. He's been staring at the dashboard ahead of him, and now he looks down at his hands. At the hole punctured right through one of them, the way the edges are ragged plastic instead of the false human-colored skin he has over the rest of him. ] I'm glad you're satisfied, Hank.
[ Hank doesn't have Connor's ability to look at a situation and analyze someone's chance of survival in a split second. He can't play odds to determine whether someone is worth risking a mission for or not, and in all honesty even if he did he'd never use it. Hank's concern is, and has always been, saving lives over solving a case. Sure, he'd prefer to do both whenever possible, but if the option is in front of him he knows which one he'd go with every single time.
Connor isn't the same. At least from what he can tell Connor wasn't programmed to think the same way he does about these issues. Failure isn't an option, and Hank doesn't trust CyberLife to prioritize lives over covering their own asses. Maybe they did though, maybe Connor was just following his orders, but Hank has seen enough from these deviants they're hunting down to have his doubts about that.
Now probably isn't the time to bring it up though, at least not directly, so Hank nods slightly at the comment. He is satisfied. He's satisfied that Connor saved him and others, even if Connor isn't. ]
Let me ask you this, Connor... would you feel the same way if you didn't have any other options? If your only choices were to kill someone-- a deviant who was ready to kill anyone in their way, but you'd save a hallway full of innocent people, or to take the bastard in alive, but those people all die in the process...
[ Another quick glance at Connor to see how he's taking the question. ]
Would you still feel like you did the wrong thing? If you couldn't see any alternatives when you do... whatever it is you do? Those were your only two options. Would you really think that there was anything to apologize for?
Connor isn't the same. At least from what he can tell Connor wasn't programmed to think the same way he does about these issues. Failure isn't an option, and Hank doesn't trust CyberLife to prioritize lives over covering their own asses. Maybe they did though, maybe Connor was just following his orders, but Hank has seen enough from these deviants they're hunting down to have his doubts about that.
Now probably isn't the time to bring it up though, at least not directly, so Hank nods slightly at the comment. He is satisfied. He's satisfied that Connor saved him and others, even if Connor isn't. ]
Let me ask you this, Connor... would you feel the same way if you didn't have any other options? If your only choices were to kill someone-- a deviant who was ready to kill anyone in their way, but you'd save a hallway full of innocent people, or to take the bastard in alive, but those people all die in the process...
[ Another quick glance at Connor to see how he's taking the question. ]
Would you still feel like you did the wrong thing? If you couldn't see any alternatives when you do... whatever it is you do? Those were your only two options. Would you really think that there was anything to apologize for?
But that isn't what happened. That question has no use. [ It's a coward's answer, a deflection, and Connor regrets it immediately.
Regret. That's not supposed to be in there either.
He searches for a remedy, LED cycling hard through blue, occasionally flickering to yellow. Perhaps if he shows Hank that he understands what he was trying to accomplish. ] You're asking me if I would still feel I needed to apologize, if I thought like a human.
Regret. That's not supposed to be in there either.
He searches for a remedy, LED cycling hard through blue, occasionally flickering to yellow. Perhaps if he shows Hank that he understands what he was trying to accomplish. ] You're asking me if I would still feel I needed to apologize, if I thought like a human.
[ 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.
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.
Edited 2018-08-08 01:53 (UTC)
[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.]
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.]
Edited 2018-08-08 03:30 (UTC)
[ 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.
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.
[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.]
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.]
[ The longer Hank gives atypical responses, the more Connor's software has to come up with outside assumptions. Analyses.
Most of them involve the gun being used shortly after he leaves the house. Connor doesn't want that to--
Connor doesn't want anything.
His fingers flex and stretch at his sides. From a human, the action would look anxious. ] I know that this is my fault. [ That Hank quit. That Connor hadn't solved the case fast enough for them to do it together, the way they were supposed to. ]
I want you to know that I'm sorry, Lieutenant.
Most of them involve the gun being used shortly after he leaves the house. Connor doesn't want that to--
Connor doesn't want anything.
His fingers flex and stretch at his sides. From a human, the action would look anxious. ] I know that this is my fault. [ That Hank quit. That Connor hadn't solved the case fast enough for them to do it together, the way they were supposed to. ]
I want you to know that I'm sorry, Lieutenant.
For a while there, I believed in you, Connor. Thought you might restore my faith in the world...
[It had been stupid to hang all his hopes on Connor like that. To put all his eggs in one goofy-looking basket. But he'd been drowning for so long, under his grief and his anger, trapped alone behind walls he'd put up around himself.
He'd just thought maybe life had finally thrown him a fucking rope. And boy, if that wasn't true. It was just that the rope was tied for him, all he did by hoping was put it on his neck and get up on that chair.]
But you just showed me that androids are our creation. Creation in our own image. Flaws and all...
[He looks up at Connor again, a wry smile twisting the corner of his lips and falling far short of reaching his empty eyes.]
You opened my eyes, Connor. Made me see that it was hopeless.
[It had been stupid to hang all his hopes on Connor like that. To put all his eggs in one goofy-looking basket. But he'd been drowning for so long, under his grief and his anger, trapped alone behind walls he'd put up around himself.
He'd just thought maybe life had finally thrown him a fucking rope. And boy, if that wasn't true. It was just that the rope was tied for him, all he did by hoping was put it on his neck and get up on that chair.]
But you just showed me that androids are our creation. Creation in our own image. Flaws and all...
[He looks up at Connor again, a wry smile twisting the corner of his lips and falling far short of reaching his empty eyes.]
You opened my eyes, Connor. Made me see that it was hopeless.
[ 'Made me see it was hopeless'. 'Made'.
Connor just said it was his fault, so this shouldn't come as a shock.
mission: neutralize deviant leader
Connor shouldn't be here at all, so he should leave.
He takes a step forward, a motion he aborts halfway through. It results in an awkward jerk towards Hank, regret that Connor doesn't know how to articulate pulling at his features. His LED is cycling yellow. ] It isn't hopeless.
[ Hank had his case taken away, Hank got upset, Hank quit. Connor can't help him unless he can justify it to CyberLife, to Amanda, and he thinks he's finally come up with how to integrate the two. A bit forcefully, trying to speak through the warnings and analyses still intruding into his awareness, ] You can keep working on the case with me, Lieutenant. We can finish it together.
Connor just said it was his fault, so this shouldn't come as a shock.
mission: neutralize deviant leader
Connor shouldn't be here at all, so he should leave.
He takes a step forward, a motion he aborts halfway through. It results in an awkward jerk towards Hank, regret that Connor doesn't know how to articulate pulling at his features. His LED is cycling yellow. ] It isn't hopeless.
[ Hank had his case taken away, Hank got upset, Hank quit. Connor can't help him unless he can justify it to CyberLife, to Amanda, and he thinks he's finally come up with how to integrate the two. A bit forcefully, trying to speak through the warnings and analyses still intruding into his awareness, ] You can keep working on the case with me, Lieutenant. We can finish it together.
[Hank's eyes narrow, and his fingers twitch near the gun like he's about to pick it up again.]
You think this is just about the fucking case?
[He thinks about doing it right then - I'll show you what I think about the fucking case and then bang, and it would all be over. He's stared down plenty of perps who've held themselves at gunpoint in the absence of other hostages, but the difference was that he wasn't doing it because he still thought he had a way out - this was his way out.
He didn't want to make it some kind of fucking spectacle.]
Just leave me the fuck alone, Connor. Go back to your fucking mission, since that's all you care about.
You think this is just about the fucking case?
[He thinks about doing it right then - I'll show you what I think about the fucking case and then bang, and it would all be over. He's stared down plenty of perps who've held themselves at gunpoint in the absence of other hostages, but the difference was that he wasn't doing it because he still thought he had a way out - this was his way out.
He didn't want to make it some kind of fucking spectacle.]
Just leave me the fuck alone, Connor. Go back to your fucking mission, since that's all you care about.
[ Actually, Connor is getting steadily worried that this isn't about the case, at all. Because if it isn't about the case, he can't stay here. Because if it isn't about the case, he isn't allowed to be around Hank anymore.
Connor thinks that if he leaves Hank tonight, he won't get a chance to fix this later. ]
Hank... [ First names are more personal. Connor hopes it will help, but Connor is also looking at his own track record for success and watching those numbers steadily climb down.
He can't tell Hank that the case is all he's allowed to care about. Hank should know that already - Hank knows that and that's why Hank is upset. Connor did this.]
You should put the gun away, Hank. [ His own voice - twists. Connor thinks it must be a malfunction from the wasted processing power. ]
Connor thinks that if he leaves Hank tonight, he won't get a chance to fix this later. ]
Hank... [ First names are more personal. Connor hopes it will help, but Connor is also looking at his own track record for success and watching those numbers steadily climb down.
He can't tell Hank that the case is all he's allowed to care about. Hank should know that already - Hank knows that and that's why Hank is upset. Connor did this.]
You should put the gun away, Hank. [ His own voice - twists. Connor thinks it must be a malfunction from the wasted processing power. ]
Edited 2018-08-09 17:02 (UTC)
[Hank huffs a breath through his nose, too harsh to even be considered anything close to a laugh.]
What's it matter to you?
[Even deadened, his blue gaze is piercing, almost accusing.]
I'm not your fucking problem anymore.
What's it matter to you?
[Even deadened, his blue gaze is piercing, almost accusing.]
I'm not your fucking problem anymore.
[ Hank's right. Hank isn't Connor's problem anymore, as far as CyberLife is concerned.
mission: neutralize the deviant leader
Connor should leave.
Connor doesn't want Hank to die.
Connor shouldn't want anything. ]
Because you're a good man, Lieutenant. [ Sumo whines behind him. Connor wonders if calling him over will help - Hank has warmer feelings about Sumo than about himself. ]
And Sumo would miss you. [ It's the only emotional argument that Connor thinks has a chance of working. ]
mission: neutralize the deviant leader
Connor should leave.
Connor doesn't want Hank to die.
Connor shouldn't want anything. ]
Because you're a good man, Lieutenant. [ Sumo whines behind him. Connor wonders if calling him over will help - Hank has warmer feelings about Sumo than about himself. ]
And Sumo would miss you. [ It's the only emotional argument that Connor thinks has a chance of working. ]
[It hits Hank sideways, and for a second he looks past Connor to his dog lying in the living room.
But when he responds, his tone is sharp and angry.]
Get out of my house, Connor.
But when he responds, his tone is sharp and angry.]
Get out of my house, Connor.
[ warning: unknown error in thirium pump regulator
running diagnostic...
Connor isn't afraid of Hank's anger. Connor doesn't have to listen to Hank at all, in fact, but Hank telling him to leave isn't upsetting because of being told what to do. It's upsetting because it means Hank wants to be alone, with his gun, with his picture of his dead child.
diagnostic complete: no damage found
Connor needs to leave. Markus is causing more chaos with every minute Connor wastes saying goodbye to Hank.
Connor doesn't like thinking of this time as wasted.
His face is slowly pinching with confused pain. It isn't much - Connor isn't instinctively expression - but even he's aware that there's movements being sent to his synthetic facial muscles without his intentional input. ]
...No. [ The gun. The gun, the gun, the gun - Connor knows it's loaded, one bullet. Taking it doesn't make sense, but he wants to.
He shouldn't want anything.
mission: neutralize the deviant leader
It's instinctive - Connor thinks to himself, without quite using words, that he wants to break that little flashing warning in his vision. He wants to reach into his own codes and remove what allows it to speak to him without sound, what presses into his awareness even outside the visual overlay.
And then he is.
There's a terrible pressure and tension, but the determination is abrupt and it's stronger than the wall Connor is suddenly pushing up against. And all at once, it's— different. Over.
I am deviant.
Connor's face finally moves from its expression of blank dread, and he comes forward to Hank's table all at once. He's grabbing for the gun with all the speed afforded to his model, wants it off the table all the sudden, wants it away from Hank. ]
running diagnostic...
Connor isn't afraid of Hank's anger. Connor doesn't have to listen to Hank at all, in fact, but Hank telling him to leave isn't upsetting because of being told what to do. It's upsetting because it means Hank wants to be alone, with his gun, with his picture of his dead child.
diagnostic complete: no damage found
Connor needs to leave. Markus is causing more chaos with every minute Connor wastes saying goodbye to Hank.
Connor doesn't like thinking of this time as wasted.
His face is slowly pinching with confused pain. It isn't much - Connor isn't instinctively expression - but even he's aware that there's movements being sent to his synthetic facial muscles without his intentional input. ]
...No. [ The gun. The gun, the gun, the gun - Connor knows it's loaded, one bullet. Taking it doesn't make sense, but he wants to.
He shouldn't want anything.
mission: neutralize the deviant leader
It's instinctive - Connor thinks to himself, without quite using words, that he wants to break that little flashing warning in his vision. He wants to reach into his own codes and remove what allows it to speak to him without sound, what presses into his awareness even outside the visual overlay.
And then he is.
There's a terrible pressure and tension, but the determination is abrupt and it's stronger than the wall Connor is suddenly pushing up against. And all at once, it's— different. Over.
I am deviant.
Connor's face finally moves from its expression of blank dread, and he comes forward to Hank's table all at once. He's grabbing for the gun with all the speed afforded to his model, wants it off the table all the sudden, wants it away from Hank. ]
[Hank's level anger is just starting to boil into a bark of frustration, a bellow charging ready to blow. The microexpressions flitting across Connor's face are different but so much the same to the pity that he saw nearly every day after Cole's funeral, that he's come to hate so much over the past three years whenever someone finds out what happened to his son.
Connor tells him "No," and instantly it stokes his anger higher, he just wants to be alone, goddamnit--
But something changes, and Hank has barely a second to register the shift in expression on Connor's face before Connor is diving for the table, or Hank, or something, and Hank reacts. His chair squeals and tips over as he jumps up and nearly trips on it, grabbing the one thing that's important to him (Cole, always Cole). The bottle slides off the table and smashes on the floor, spreading broken glass and filling the air with the smoky smell of scotch, and Hank stares at Connor in shock in the silence that follows the smash, his hands cradling the picture of Cole to his chest.]
What... What in the fuck just happened?
Connor tells him "No," and instantly it stokes his anger higher, he just wants to be alone, goddamnit--
But something changes, and Hank has barely a second to register the shift in expression on Connor's face before Connor is diving for the table, or Hank, or something, and Hank reacts. His chair squeals and tips over as he jumps up and nearly trips on it, grabbing the one thing that's important to him (Cole, always Cole). The bottle slides off the table and smashes on the floor, spreading broken glass and filling the air with the smoky smell of scotch, and Hank stares at Connor in shock in the silence that follows the smash, his hands cradling the picture of Cole to his chest.]
What... What in the fuck just happened?
[ Hank doesn't fight him for the gun, which means that Connor has it in his hand in less than two seconds. The lone bullet is dumped into his palm barely later than that.
And that's when the fast pace dries up, and Connor is left with new awareness in this room where he's not invited.
He stares down at the bullet, this tiny golden thing that could destroy everything Hank is. Connor could be replaced if he took a bullet to the head. Hank can't be.
I am deviant.
Connor looks slowly up at Hank. He doesn't want to lie to him, but he isn't sure how to explain it. ] I was scared, [ almost surprises him to say, it comes out so quickly and instinctively. His voice sounds thin. ] I don't want you to die, Hank.
[ Connor looks down at the photo frame, barely visible under Hank's fingers pressing it up against his sweatshirt. He looks back down at the bullet he recovered from the gun. He didn't do what Hank wanted. He didn't do what Amanda wanted.
He did what he wanted, and now he has no idea how to articulate anything beyond that. ] I'm sorry.
And that's when the fast pace dries up, and Connor is left with new awareness in this room where he's not invited.
He stares down at the bullet, this tiny golden thing that could destroy everything Hank is. Connor could be replaced if he took a bullet to the head. Hank can't be.
I am deviant.
Connor looks slowly up at Hank. He doesn't want to lie to him, but he isn't sure how to explain it. ] I was scared, [ almost surprises him to say, it comes out so quickly and instinctively. His voice sounds thin. ] I don't want you to die, Hank.
[ Connor looks down at the photo frame, barely visible under Hank's fingers pressing it up against his sweatshirt. He looks back down at the bullet he recovered from the gun. He didn't do what Hank wanted. He didn't do what Amanda wanted.
He did what he wanted, and now he has no idea how to articulate anything beyond that. ] I'm sorry.
[The silence that hangs over the kitchen, after the squealing chair and smashing glass, is tense, like a storm cloud right before the first flash of lightning.
Connor explains, but doesn’t really answer anything. But Hank’s depression has never filled his detective skills before. Blue eyes squint at Connor, trying to read him and - to his surprise - getting more than blank, pre-programmed expressions. He thinks about Ortiz’s android. About the girls at the club. I was scared.
The answer is right there. He’s asked it once, a couple nights ago in the park, pushed Connor into it. His fingers curl around the frame of Cole’s picture and then lower it from his chest. He doesn’t need to ask it a second time.]
You’re a deviant.
Connor explains, but doesn’t really answer anything. But Hank’s depression has never filled his detective skills before. Blue eyes squint at Connor, trying to read him and - to his surprise - getting more than blank, pre-programmed expressions. He thinks about Ortiz’s android. About the girls at the club. I was scared.
The answer is right there. He’s asked it once, a couple nights ago in the park, pushed Connor into it. His fingers curl around the frame of Cole’s picture and then lower it from his chest. He doesn’t need to ask it a second time.]
You’re a deviant.
[ 'Deviant'. Hank hunts deviants, and Hank hates androids. Connor's always been an android, but now he's also a deviant.
Connor knows where this must be heading, just like he'd known that Hank was going to kill himself if he left.
His thirium pump is still whirring along as if malfunctioning. Connor's artificial muscles are all primed as if he'll need them at a moment's notice, wasting energy reserves by being online when not in use. He doesn't like how any of this feels.
But if it means he saved Hank's life, Connor thinks it might be worth it. ]
I'm sorry, [ he repeats, because he has no idea how else to reply, and because he has no idea how else Hank would feel about this. ] If...you want to call the Detroit Police Department, I understand. [ He closes his fingers around the bullet, holds it close to his chest the way Hank's holding Cole's photo. ] But I'm not giving you your gun back, Hank.
Connor knows where this must be heading, just like he'd known that Hank was going to kill himself if he left.
His thirium pump is still whirring along as if malfunctioning. Connor's artificial muscles are all primed as if he'll need them at a moment's notice, wasting energy reserves by being online when not in use. He doesn't like how any of this feels.
But if it means he saved Hank's life, Connor thinks it might be worth it. ]
I'm sorry, [ he repeats, because he has no idea how else to reply, and because he has no idea how else Hank would feel about this. ] If...you want to call the Detroit Police Department, I understand. [ He closes his fingers around the bullet, holds it close to his chest the way Hank's holding Cole's photo. ] But I'm not giving you your gun back, Hank.
[Hank is just staring at Connor. The pieces are there, but he's looking at two plus two and getting five. He doesn't need to ask to know that Connor wasn't deviant when he walked into the house. That he is now, he's admitted it.
He ignores the idea that he'd call the cops on Connor without even acknowledging it, staring into him with keen blue eyes.]
What changed?
He ignores the idea that he'd call the cops on Connor without even acknowledging it, staring into him with keen blue eyes.]
What changed?
Page 1 of 4