#“we'll just fuck everyone over and start from the beginning and erase any progress or character development we gave them in the base game”

[doodlboy]

Turning the obey me men into my ocs they don't belong to solmare anymore

[dope-squish]

Programmed And Damned [ RK800 Connor X Reader ] [ Detroit: Become Human ] - Chapter Two - Software Instability

[ We thankfully reached our goal two days earlier than the deadline so good job everyone ] [ Goal - 80 Hearts/Reblogs ] [ GOAL REACHED - CHAPTER THREE POSTED ]

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[ This chapter is dedicated to

@nickangel13 thank you so much for your sweet comment. I appreciate it so much

@mysticmaehem thank you for commenting! I'm so glad you liked it!

@timelizzy21 thank you for reading! I will try to keep this fanfic as interesting as possible :D

@angsty-otters-blog omg your comment makes my day O///O

@connorshero this is dedicated to this amazing writer because she's one of my favorite fanfic writers and she deserves the best ouo ][ Also I will be regarding to Connor as he/him because it's quite efficient and calling him "it" throughout the whole story until he deviates is just ... i dunno ]

"What do you have to say about my new appearance, lieutenant?"

Hank heaved out an exasperated and exaggerated sigh, murmured an incoherent complain under his breath and gradually whipped his head around to see whatever the reason Connor was trying to gain his attention only to produce a loud disturbed yelp upon sighting Connor sporting a white oversized shirt imprinted with a tacky logo of some form of anarchy, unbuckled and ripped pants dangerously dipping down from his pelvis, blinding blings encrusted with fake diamonds and of course, the black and white bandana enveloped around his lower face. Hank took a step back away from the prototype, examining him from head to toe. "Jesus, what the fuck are you wearing?" Hank questioned in disdain, disturbed by what he was seeing. No amount of bleach and brainwashing session can erase this nightmare he was seeing. What has been seen cannot be unseen.

Connor was quick to sense this negativity coming from Hank and in order to enlighten him and make an understanding, he answered in an explanation, pulling down his bandana that covered his nose and mouth. "I have thoroughly researched about the participants in these Underground Android Clashes. I learned that most people in there are with multiple criminal records and are considered to be intimidating. The best way to blend in with them and avoid increase of suspicion is to look as intimidating as they are. Hence, after downloading data about intimidation tactics from several trusted websites, I concluded wearing a gangster attire would do it."

"Do you even know what the hell a gangster is?"

"Of course I do. Gangster, a member of an organized group of violent criminals. Gangsters are also a common and popular - though not to an extent as bad boys - trope for authors to use in writing a story." Connor replied. "Do not worry. This will only be a temporary disguise until our investigation in the Clash is over. I don't have any intention to keep this up after. Unless you would rather me in this outfit."

Hank vigorously shook his head in denial. "Hell no! No fucking way am I going in there with you looking like disaster on foot."

Connor tilted his head mildly, pupils dilating out of curiosity. "Then what do you suggest I do? Arriving simply in my uniform will give away our identities in an immediate."

"Just . . . Just wear that shit you always wear but just remove the blazer. Maybe tussle your a little bit and lessen being such a pain in the ass? I don't know. Don't ask anymore stupid questions."

Connor's brows knitted together as he slowly put the puzzle pieces together and formed a correct inquiry. "Are my new clothes making you uncomfortable, liuetenant?"

Hank averted his eyes from Connor's burning stare. If android eyes were upgraded with laser beams, Hank would certainly drop dead with a pair of scorching holes on the back of his head. "They're making my eyes cry blood now get a move on before I change my mind about this case."

Connor is completely aware of Hank's growing disturbance to the sight his newly acquired clothing. Desiring to get in Hank's good side for better communication and work related partnership, he should be doing as told without question and tinge of reluctance but seeing as he was required by CyberLife to attain good and harmonious relation with him, he finds that forming this odd human concept called friendship was a good approach to his side objective. But befriending this spitfire of a man was a lot difficult and was taking unnecessarily longer than what his software is frequently used to. How could he get Hank Anderson - who has a strong and unfaltering hatred for androids - on his good side and havethe mission accomplished in an even more efficient manner? Connor paused for a brief moment to study everything, disregarding the confusion settling itself on Hank's facial expression as he browsed through the internet - how to be friends with a grumpy old man who works for the police force and hates you with all his might? (being specific is mandatory for he needed specific solution). In one website, it says that initiating bantering is a good start to make friends. If said answer is correct, then Hank wouldn't mind.

Connor flashed him what he hoped Hank would consider friendly and inviting, the corners of his lips curving upwards almost painfully. He wore only a light and nearly nonexistent smile but not being used to smiling, his lips cannot accomodate well and he struggled maintaining it. "But lieutenant, I don't see any blood coming out of your eyes."

His pitiful attempt and idea of joking was a little off - most probably completely - and this was his first attempt to do so that it almost made Hank to consider faking his fit of laughter just so Connor wouldn't feel bad.

Who was Hank kidding? Why would Connor feel anything at all? He was an android and it was a known fact that androids don't feel emotions. How pitiful.

"I'm in a neutral mood right now. Don't fuck this up for me." Informed Hank, his stern gaze directed to Connor.

Connor was not at all astonished by Hank's displeasing response to his banter. From the very beginning as he was conjuring up his plan, the probability of his success was lower than five percent but he thought it wouldn't hurt (not like anything will) to try. With an obedient nod, Connor quipped, "I'll go get changed."

***

After briefly dropping by Cherry Downtown Bar (courtesy of Hank stubbornly refusing to make any sort of progress in their investigation without consuming an alarming amount of liquor to keep him up and going), prototype RK800 Connor and lieutenant Hank Anderson presently stood right before an abandoned candy factory where broken window, neglected equipments and several layers of dust collected in the years were the only things visible in any entities' vision. Aforementioned factory was formerly used to make sweets such as lollipops, gumballs and bubblegums but upon being rat out by one of its own concerned and guilt ridden employee that they have been secretly slipping in red ice in certain candies for notorious drug dealing syndicates from all over the world, they were immediately shut down and the manufacturers, along with their partners in business, were put on custody and were to remain behind bars for thirty years.

Connor cautiously surveys the area with his enhances pupils and his brows connected with one another, perfectly mirroring an arch. "Lieutenant," Connor calls out as Hank advance forward to the metal door undoubtedly leading to the location of the arena. "I have a bad . . ." At this, Connor trailed off in uncertainty as he ponders over a better substitute rather than typically using the term feeling. ". . . suspicion about this Clash.

Hank scoffed at his spoken words, eyes flickering away from the door and to the android detective. "Are you chickening out now?" He bellows. "I postponed my drinking for this shit."

Connor shakes his head in a vigorous manner, the stray lock of hair over his forehead bobbing along with his motion. "No, I am not chickening out, as you say. I am merely expressing my concern for this case we're investigating."

Hank nodded absently as he lifted his right fist up in the air and rapped his knucles on the metal door a few times. Connor stood awkwardly behind him like an obedient android rookie some deemed as, spine perfectly straight and hands behind his back, his coin effortlessly and smoothly rolling on his fingers. It didn't take long before a perfectly proportioned male - roughly around the age of late twenties - slide the door to the side in the slightest bit, only revealing to them half of his eccentric tattoed face and partly shaved head on the left.

[ Name - Lucas Gray

Age - 27

Criminal Record/s - Drug abuse ]

Lucas snarled at the sight of the old man and his android, irritation etching on his face. "Move your ass, you have no business here."

Lucas Gray motioned to shut the door right before them but Hank - regardless of his old age - reacted swiftly. Just as their only passage inside was to close, Hank wedged his foot within the gap, efficiently disabling Lucas to do as he earlier pleased. Said male glowered at Hank, the annoyance glossing over his eyes intensifying. "Damn right I have some business here." And with that, Hank pointed behind him - right at Connor whose look could only be described as perplexed - with the use of his thumb. "I have some fresh blue blood here."

Lucas momentarily paused his movements to examine the both of them and from his calculations and the way the man was knitting his eyebrows together, Connor knew he was to let them in sooner or later. Not that Lucas trusted them - no, no - but because of what Hank had stated earlier. From the acquired information about these Clashes two years ago, mentioning blue blood to the bouncer is basically the password to enter the abandoned factory and to the Clashes. One would think the people behind the construction of Underground Android Clashes would be brilliant enough to alter the password every now and then to secure their secret, but then again, who had time to change passwords when all people really want was to watch androids tear their own species?

Producing a disgruntled grunt, Lucas retreated a few steps back in order to pull the door wider to give them a way to enter. Heeding no instruction, Connor automatically followed Hank's footsteps, politely acknowledging the bouncer with a firm nod to which the latter rolled his eyes at in response. "Good fucking luck with the Clash," He murmured gruffly as they passed by his towering figure before shutting and locking the door behind them. "You're gonna need it."

Connor halted in his footsteps as his programming instantly took the precious liberty to correct Lucas. He surfed through multiple websites for the scientific and realistic meaning of the term luck but found no such luck (Connor's LED turned yellow for a split second at the realization he somehow managed to conjure up a pun, as humans call it). Whirling around, Connor speaks, "There is no such thing as luck. It is nonexistent. Life is merely a series of probability."

Connor's lips desired to provide more information about the concept of luck but was rendered silent upon noticing Lucas glare over at his direction, hands curling and lips contorting to an ugly scowl. Before an argument could arise and possibly jeapordize the whole investigation, Hank grabbed Connor by the back of his collar and carelessly dragged him away from Lucas, distantly telling the man, "Sorry about this one! I think it's mentally challenged as an android!"

Connor instantly perked up at this. Once Lucas' interest on them diverted, Connor questions, "I haven't heard of a mentally challenged android before. Is there such thing now? Did CyberLife create a new kind of android? I am unaware of this."

Hank looked back at him, releasing the fabric from his hold. "There is one now."

Perplexed from the unfolded information, Connor leaned forward. "Really? Where is it? Is the public already aware of this new android?" He asked with an innocence of a child, painfully oblivious to the underlying message Hank was trying to relay to him.

Hank gawked at him with incredulousness glimmering in his eyes before shaking his hear in disbelief, sighing defeatedly. "Nothing, nothing, just forget about it. That's not what we're here for anyways."

Connor's software erased all remaining interest on the false information of a newly created android and highlighted his main objective - the exact reason why they even found themselves inside a malodorous and unsanitary factory. His fingers subconciously surfaced to fasten his tie but stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he recalled he had left his suit jacket and tie in the police car at Hank's request - more like demand. He involuntarily twitched at the sudden change.

Hank narrowed his eyes suspiciously upon having caught on Connor's involuntary movement. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing to be of your concern, lieutenant." Connor responded to his quiry as smoothly as he can as he generated his software to momentarily adapt to the lack of suit jacket and tie. Thankfully, his coin was not confiscated inside the police car. "Come on, we must continue with the case. Every second counts."

They ventured further into the corridor where horrendously ugly (save for some who actually had some sense of artistry in them), gruesome, sentimental, gothic and lewd graffiti drawn all over the walls, overlapping one another. There were damp cartons filled to the brim with tissue papers, half empty bottles of liquor scattered all over the place with a few shredded advertisments for the Eden Club and purchase of red ice. The place held pungent stench that could make humans wrench in disgust. Connor was mildly impressed Hank maintained a neutral calmness inside a chaotic place like this. He had formerly thought he'd unpleasingly react to the state of the factory.

"What a fucking mess. What did I expect from these people, honestly? My place looks like paradise compared to this. At least I use air freshener." Hank commented as he cast his gaze around, clumsily stumbling a few times as he comes across a few empty bottles. "Hell I can't wait to get out of here."

Nevermind. Connor thought.

Reaching the end of the corridor where a dim light resonated and obnoxious cheering from the people came, they were met by a drunkenly staggering man holding onto the walls for balance, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth and red bloodshot eyes which only Connor could guess was caused by guzzling red ice. "Outta my way, pricks." He slurred in a pathetic attempt of trying to sound menacing as Connor and Hank parted to make way for him.

The man struggled along the way as he tried to approach the exit, occasionally crashing on the obstacles along the way. Connor could only watch him in interest. "Do you think he'll return to his residency safely?" Asks Connor and turns to regard Hank. "His car keys are dangling from his belt; he obviously owns a car and it is also quite obvious he is in no condition to drive."

Dismissively, Hank waved his hand. "Bah, just forget about him. A little incident won't hurt anyone. It'll teach him a valuable lesson when he can't learn the easy way."

"But wouldn't he sustain grave injuries if this little turns out to be huge? Or the worse outcome yet - death."

"Depends on how stupid that man is. Let's just hope he's too drunk to even get to his car and pass out on the way." Hank spared a glance at the intoxicated man and jeered as he saw him plummet to the carton of tissues, a curse leaving his lips. "Look at him, I bet he can't even tell the difference between water and tissue papers."

What greeted them as they both entered the main area of the factory was expected. The corridor gave them enough hints. Hollering humans cheering for their android of choice with either betting cash or alcohol in their hands, trashes of all sorts spreading out like an ocean, grease and other stains of unidentified liquid tainting the whole place - this site was one step behind from being a junkyard. From below the upper bleachers, the arena stood proudly.

[ SOFTWARE INSTABLITY ^^^ ]

[ SOFTWARE INSTABLITY ^^^ ]

[ SOFTWARE INSTABLITY ^^^ ]

He took one insignificant step within the premises of the main area when his software instability began drastically increasing with no particular source. With burrowed eyebrows, Connor intently studied these anomalous pop ups perched precariously on his peripheral vision like an annoying insect latching in spoiled food to feast upon. His LED colored itself yellow and red, flickering from time to time as he ran an analysis on his software but alas, no peculiarity was discovered.

He was in perfectly good condition - too perfect in actuality - so there was no reasonable explanation as to why these warning were appearing out of the blue. Not only that but the accelerating thrumming of his thirium pump vibrated against his chest - something he had never encountered before in his existence.

Hank strode a few good meters away from Connor and rested his right arm on the cold metal railing, his upper body leaning forward to get a closer inspection on the arena. As to not inject anymore irritation directed to him, Connor instantly went after him and stood next to him, securely evading all obstacles along the way. Hank snorted, eyes trained on the arena and the six androids circling around it right in front of metals doors, generously far from each other. "Seems like we got here right on time. The Clash will probably start in five minutes or so." He informed and a grimace formed on his face. "What the fuck is that man doing to that android?"

Connor cast his gaze downwards, to where Hank was directing his line of sight and located an aggresive man leering down on his fear stricken android as though it was dirt on the sole of his shoe.

It didn't take Connor a second to deduce the android was not normal as it seems. "It's deviant," Pointed out Connor, his left hand over the railing.

Hank sent him a glimpse. "What?"

Using his index finger, Connor aimed his finger at the android. "The android there is a deviant. As you already know, android don't feel emotions. But deviants do. And that android there is clearly showing signs of intense fear."

Hank nodded and returned his sight on the newly appointed deviant in Connor's perspective. Connor could hear Hank saying something, commenting something unfavorable about how the man was treating the android (why would he be concerned for an artificial human?) but it was an undurable pull that caused him to neglect Hank. His steadfast posture wavered in the slightest as his form was forced to move by this mysterious pull of nature and he soon found himself facing a particular direction a little further away from the human and his android turned deviant.

It was an android - how common. [ Hair Color ] [ Hair Length ], [ Eye Color ], and did he mention it was an android? Now upon observation, nothing about it was out of the ordinary nor was there anything special about it. If ever asked why it somewhat stood out amongst the other androids participating in the Clash, Connor will simply reply it was because of its unfaltering and intimidating stance, a total contrast to the other androids who merely stood motionless with a blank visage. Probably in normal circumstances, he wouldn't have spared a single glance at its direction. Hell, he wouldn't even learn of its existence until the Clash begins. The only reason he set his eyes in it was because it seems to be the sole source of his increasing instability in his software, LED shinning red, and thirium pump palpitating.

There must be a malfunction I cannot detect. Or this android did something to me.

[ NO INFORMATION AVAILABLE ]

A quiet gasp tumbled from his lips. How can there be no information about this androi - "Connor?"

Connor's body twitched. He wanted to respond to Hank's voice, to heed his superior, to obediently follow with no speck of defiance the orders programmed in his software by CyberLife but as the saying goes, expect the unexpected - for the first time in his existence, Connor refused to listen to his instructions.

Connor's LED turned yellow in frustration. He lost count of how many times he scanned the said android and every time he got the same result. Who is that android?

And what makes it so special, so excluded from the others, that it caused him to disobey CyberLife?

His question was answered when he came into gradual realization that the android was staring at him, its pair of [ Eye Color ] eyes fixated on him like it was studying him, admiring him. Connor's jaw dropped - It wasn't the most beautiful android in Detroit, its features were plain and common among humans, but why was he so stunned, so fascinated by this android?

[ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^^^ ]

***

Stop. Just stop. Please just stop this nonsense.

[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]

[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]

[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]

Regardless of your extremely futile attempts to at least postpone the pop ups of your system errors - you hated the thought that they might be the reason to your defeat, if ever - it continously reappeared at the side of your vision. Your LED whirred and turned red in alarm.

Six minutes had already passed by after breaking the accidental eye contact you initiated yet you can still recognize the smoldering gaze of the peculiar android suited at the upper bleachers of the factory on your figure, intently studying whatever little motion your body spared. Uncomfortable was an understatement if you were to describe the situation you found yourself in. It wasn't helping that your body was turning against you with your thirium pump distastely thudding against your chest, LED flickering from red and yellow (make up your damn mind) and most especially the system errors practically taking up all the space of your peripheral vision.

"Hello there, our dear Clashers! How are you all today?" You were roused back from your deep reverie and to reality once the booming voice of the emcee blasted from the speakers as she spoke through her held microphone. The emcee wore an overly sweet smile that could shame the former purpose of the abandoned factoryand matching its disgusying smile was an overly sweet, unnecessary and try hard set of makeup caking her face. If you were a lesser android, you would have reprimanded her for trying to mimic a coloring book. With an overflowing amount of confidence practially oozing from her, she sported a skimpy pink and green floral dress that left nothing else for the wild imagination of the men residing in the bleachers and flawlessly rocked a pair of six inched black pumps and dangling fake diamond earrings. Her dyed raven hair was combed in an elegant updo and her eyes glistened with mischief and delight as the crowd roared in thrill at the sight of her. She posed seductively in the middle of the area, legs apart and a slender hand on her hip. "Another evening, another Clash and you know what that means? Another set of useless and weak androids are nearing their tombs! Or rather, in their case, the andriod junkyard heaven!"

Her poor joke garnered her an outstanding fits of laughter generously given by her admirers in the abandoned factory that she had tom call them out several times before they were silenced. You cannot help but have puzzlement arise inside your system. The joke wasn't that humorous and you have mosh certainy heard betters ones yet somehow, the majority of the humans within the factory laughed at the emcee's quip. How come is that? "Okay, okay, enough of that," The emcee bellows and lets out a childish and feminine giggle. "Now, how about we greet our androids for the night?"

On cue to her rhetorical question, the metal doors opened right before your eyes and without a second of hesitation, you advanced within the interior of the arena. The exact moment your stepped foot in the arena, you disregarded all external and internal distraction but the the unsettling stare of the android from the bleachers remained, though more bearable as you successfully focused yourself on your current objective - to eliminate all threat to your victory. The other androids mirrored your movements with the same lacking amount of hesitation, excluding the android turned deviant which cowered as it remained outside, refusing to enter the arena in fear of its death.

"Get in there!" Edwin Williams demanded to his android, teeth gritting and hot air exhaled throigh his nostrils.

The terrified deviant shook its head, its feet taking steps back. "I-I don't wanna die in there,"

"Oh for fuck sake," The owner ascended the small staircase leading to the arena and shoved his android inside, not giving a second thoigh about its emotional condition. The deviant tumbled down on the cold cement but instantenously got back up on its feet to escape but the moment he stood, the metal doors had already shut, locking it in its death bed. It begged for its freedom and rapped its knuckles on the wired walls to get anyone's attention but all it got were insults, humiliation and shame.

"And now," Begins the emcee as she pauses for tension, "Let us acknowledge the reigning champion of the Android Clashes for two straight years - give it up for Anonymous!" A wave of cheers mixed in with the boos greeted your owner, Ruth Judge, as he raised his fist in greeting to the people.

"And how can we forget his undefeated legendary of an android!m? Our very own combat android of the century!" The emcee gesticulates to you and as expected, you received the same reaction from the crowd.

"Don't let that shit of an android beat you!" Edwin violently slammed his hands againt the wired walls of the arena, teeth snapping. "Kill it!"

Slowly, the quivering, fear controlled deviant turned to your direction, eyes pleading and cheeks tinged blue. "Please," It whimpered pathetically. "Don't hurt me."

You gaped at it. Never had any android pleaded for its life, they mostly took their defeat without a word so as the deviant stared at you with teary eyes, pleaded for your mercy, you found no backup step by step instructions on what to do in this kind of situation so you settled by averting your gaze from it. The dilation of your pupils was far from evident but still it was there, mocking you for carelessly letting the android's plea get muddle with your system - [ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]

"Now," The emcee twirls around with her hands in the air and strikes an idol like posing. "Let this android Clash begin!"

--

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