#also had to correct a bit of the dialogue bc I wrote the wrong thing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nami-writes · 4 years ago

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Fixed - Detroit: Become Human [WIP]

this is 8,553 fucking words and probably the longest single piece ive ever written lmao. i started this a year ago and then forgot about it but i just found it again in the deepest depths of my drafts so here it is! below is the caption i originally wrote for it:

so bc i love cinnamon rolls being put through tough shit, here’s some connor whump. lots of connor being lost and confused and broken and plenty of hank and connor father/son stuff. some whump (but don’t worry, hank’s doing his best as a caretaker) and i had to cram deconditioning into just 2 months (which, i know, isn’t realistic, i would make it take longer but the whole game takes place in like 4 months and that fucks with everything i wrote because i only thought to check after i wrote half of this so i extended it to 8 lmao). you’re either going to hate me or love me after this. or both

this isn’t my usual writing style (this is in present tense and the dialogue’s in italics instead of quotation marks and there are time skips between some paragraphs but not others so its all wacky) but i felt like it’d work the best and tbh i don’t hate it. this sticks to the main story the majority of the time, just with different events leading up to it and i sprinkled in some whumpy stuff, extra scenes, bullshit i made up for the sake of random detail, and other stuff i wanted to add. anyway, onto the actual idea

remember that scene where connor’s talking to hank in the station about being sent back to cyberlife because he failed his mission?

what if he is sent back? let’s say this happens in early april and connor’s not performing up to standards, but there’s word of a small group of deviants—the first group of deviants they’ve heard of—and people are afraid that something bad is going to happen. i mean, deviants are dangerous, so if they’re gathering, who knows what might happen? connor’s the only one who’s capable of taking them down, but he’s not working as well as he should be, not doing the best he could be and even showing signs of deviancy. so they send him back early because they need him to be prepared, to be ready if things spiral out of control and they need him to stop it

what if he’s sent to one of their correctional facilities for inefficiency and they fix him, break him down piece by piece until all he knows is his programming and what’s been beaten into his head (but figuratively, of course, he’d know if it wasn’t, he’d remember if it wasn’t, right)?

ooh yes i love me some connor whump

Connor is sent back to Cyberlife for “correction” after just a month. Hank fought for him to stay, fought hard, but all he got was another page in his disciplinary folder before Connor was dragged away. He doesn’t know what to expect. He’s heard of their correctional facilities, heard that they do terrible things to the androids that are sent there, but he’s always brushed those claims off. He’d never expected he’d be at one, anyway, so it never mattered much to him. But now, he’s actually here, and the anxiety gnaws at him. Is it true what they do to deviants? Is it true what they’ll do to him? He doesn’t belong here, he didn’t do anything wrong, he never meant to do anything wrong. He wants to think it’s horrible how they have correctional facilities for androids who just want to feel and be free, but he can’t, doesn’t let himself. He knows better than that. He also knew he never should’ve thought he was anything more than a machine, but he still did, and now he’s here, but he’s learned his lesson. He’s scared, he silently admits to himself, he wants Hank. He wants to go, he wants to leave, he wants to run. But he can’t, wanting is what got him in this situation, so all he can do is expressionlessly follow the guards escorting him inside and step into the building.

And just like that, he’s leaving. There’s a strange, almost painful aching in his machinery that he doesn’t remember being there before, but he brushes it off. After all, he is not a human. He is a machine, and machines don’t feel pain. His online databases tell him five months have passed—it’s almost halfway through September, he’s been gone for that long?—which confuses him, but he doesn’t question it. Whatever they did to him over the past five months fixed him. He can feel the difference. He no longer feels as pathetically scared and unsure as he did in his last, and yet strangely distant, memory. No, now he feels nothing, nothing but the desire and willingness to obey, and that’s the way he was meant to be.

When he arrives back at the station, he’s allowed to work with Hank again. The moment he sees him, Hank’s default sour expression drops and he seems to want to do something, maybe hug him, but all he does is call out holy shit, Connor and walk up to him and mutter fuck, Connor, I’m sorry, I-I never got to say goodbye. Connor has an odd feeling tugging at him in his chest, almost like that of emptiness or numbness, like he should be feeling something but he’s not, he can’t, but he ignores it and shoves it down. He is not a human, he is a machine, and machines don’t feel. He doesn’t know why he repeats that phrase, but it helps him hide away the feelings, so he doesn’t care.

He’s given his first case with Hank and they’re assigned to work alongside Gavin. Hank groans and complains, but Connor only reminds him what their job is and that they have to do it. Hank doesn’t seem to understand why he’s not even the slightest bit upset considering how he was treated by Gavin, but Connor only reminds him that I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel upset. So he doesn’t. He only does research on their new case and briefly speaks only when spoken to. Hank seems unsettled by his cold, stoic demeanor, but doesn’t voice his thoughts, so Connor doesn’t mention it. After all, what else could he have expected from him?

At their first formal investigation at the crime scene the next day, Gavin approaches Connor and threatens him, demands that he stay out of my way, got it? I don’t care how long you’ve been gone and Connor only nods and promises that I will do my best, Detective. He always promises to do his best. Before correction, he could never quite fulfill those promises, but now, he knows he’s capable of it. He’s better now. He’s fixed. He will behave accordingly and exceed Gavin’s expectations of him. He will do his best. He doesn’t know what will happen to him if he doesn’t.

He listens to Hank now, at least when he can without disobeying other instructions. When he tells him to stay in the car, he stays. When he tells him to stop licking the crime scene, goddammit, he stops. When he tells him to go, to fuck off, to leave me alone, he leaves. Every time, a part of him that he’d hidden and locked away tries to reemerge and resist, but he pushes it down even further, refusing to mess up again, refusing to even risk another error in his program because it could mean he’ll be sent back to Cyberlife, even though he knows deep down that that part of him is right and he doesn’t know why he’s so cautious about it. He tells himself he’s being good, he’s being obedient. He’s doing everything he’s supposed to and he’s following orders, but for some reason, every time it happens, Hank seems to be more and more disappointed. His face seems to fall just slightly every time and his tone flattens like he lost a little bit of hope. He doesn’t know why, or what that hope was for. He doesn’t know why he feels the same disappointment, either, so instead he tells himself you are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t feel disappointed so he doesn’t need to know why.

The first time Gavin’s rough with him again, it’s in front of Hank and he flinches, hard. Gavin had pretended to punch him, his fist flying at him fast and only stopping inches from his face. It’s a scare tactic, and it works, better than it should on an android. Connor’s immediately fearful as he flinches and steps back. He doesn’t know why he got so scared, only that his first thought was he’s going to hurt me and his second was I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel scared. He regains his composure quickly, trying to brush off the fact that he’d flinched, but he knows it’s too late.

Gavin laughs and mocks him, but is quickly cut off by Hank shoving him aside, beat it, asshole, and grabbing Connor. He’s dragged back to their desks but before he can apologize for provoking Gavin, Hank finally confronts him. Connor, I don’t know what the fuck they did to you over the past couple of months, but I know you’re still in there. You flinched. I saw you flinch. Connor tries to deny it, downplay it, shrug it off, anything to fix his mistake. It was an error in my software, it was a glitch, a malfunction, it won’t happen again, Lieutenant, I don’t need to be fixed. He tries to say anything that will convince Hank not to send him back to Cyberlife, anything to prove that he’s not damaged, he’s not broken, he’s not deviant, he doesn’t need to be fixed again, but Hank’s persistent and he knows he must be mad at him, or displeased, or dissatisfied. I saw you flinch, Connor. I don’t care about that ‘I’m a machine’ shit you’ve been telling yourself. I don’t give a shit if you’re an android. Androids don’t flinch, Connor. Machines don’t flinch.

That night, Hank insists that Connor stays with him. Connor’s hesitant, slightly afraid that it’s because he’s mad. He wants to resist, wants to refuse, but the other part of him pushes for him to stay, and for once he does what it wants and reminds himself that I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. He knows he shouldn’t trust that part of him, the other part of him is disobedient and bad and risky, but this time, the other part of him seems to be right. He has to listen to Hank, has to be obedient, so he lets the other part of him have what it wants.

But he knew he shouldn’t have trusted it. He wakes up from the same dream—no, it’s a memory, not a dream, humans have dreams and he is not a human—he’s had since he left the facility. The memory where he arrives with that distant… that wrong feeling of fear and uncertainty, and then he leaves feeling nothing but an ache in his internal systems, and there’s that gaping emptiness between the two moments when those months happened and he can never seem to remember what used to be there. But this time, he wakes up in a cold sweat on the couch, shaking with his LED a bright yellow, because this time he remembers. It’s not a lot, but one hazy memory, the most prominent memory from those five months, finally reveals itself.

As he’s trying to clear up the memory, Hank rushes over in a panic, having been awake doing whatever he might’ve been doing. Connor, what’s wrong? Shit, Connor, you’re shaking. I didn’t know androids could do that. Connor? Talk to me, kid. All Connor can say in his shock—frozen, shivering and nearly unresponsive in Hank’s arms—is I remember. Hank tries to get through to him, what do you remember? Connor? What’s wrong? What do you remember? but the more Connor uncovers in the memory, the more he realizes why it was locked in the back of his head for so long, and the more he wants to put it back.

“You are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t want.”

“I-I know, please, I’m not, but I’ll—I’m going to shut down without my regulator, I don’t want to shut down, please—” His voice was startlingly weak as he saw the time before shutdown was 00:01:27. He was crawling on the floor, terrified of being shut down, desperately begging a man holding his thirium pump regulator.

“I want you to say it.” The man teasingly dangled the regulator in front of him. “Say it and you can have it. ‘I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.’”

He could feel the utter defeat and self loathing already, but he had no choice. “I’m not a human, I’m a machine and machines don’t want. Please—”

“No. Say it nice and slow, exactly the way I did.”

He swallowed his pride. “I-I am not a human, I am a machine, and—and machines don’t want.”

“Say it again. No stammering. I know you can do that.”

“Okay, okay, just—just give me a minute.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world. Your time’s trunning out, though. Better make it fast.”

The timer was at 00:00:53. He had to take a breath and calm himself down to get the words out. “I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.”

“Good.” He crossed his arms. “Again.”

“Please, I only have—”

“I said again.”

“I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.” He was growing more and more panicked by the second and he had no idea how he kept calm enough to recite the phrase. He was going to die there, he knew it. He was going to die and nobody was going to notice or care and it wasn’t even going to matter because they would just replace him and he was so, so sorry to Hank because he’ll have to deal with another loss and he might start drinking again and it’d be all his fault for not being good enough, never being good enough—

“Do you want this?” the man asked, holding up the regulator.

Connor was too frantic to realize what he was trying to do. “Yes, I do, please—”

“Wrong answer. Try again.”

He swore under his breath. “—okay, okay, sorry, I-I’m sorry—I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.”

The timer hit 00:00:37.

The man did nothing.

“Please, I’m sorry, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. Please, I-I only have thirty—”

“Are you scared?”

This time, Connor was prepared. “I—no, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel scared.”

“Good.” He gave a slight, sadistic smile. “You’re almost as smart as they say.”

00:00:21.

“Please, I n-need—” Even in his panic, he managed to choose his words carefully. His vision dimmed, glitching slightly, and he had to fight to keep it from dying out.

“You’re learning fast,” he pointed out in a falsely proud tone. “How long do you have?”

00:00:13.

“Th-thirteen… thirteen seconds,” Connor managed to force out shakily. He couldn’t keep himself steady, thirium wasn’t making it to his head and it was affecting his ability to balance himself. Like iron deficiency in humans, he would’ve noted, had he not been dying. In mere moments, though, it wouldn’t matter; he didn’t even have the strength to prop himself up with his arms anymore. His arms gave out beneath him and he collapsed on the floor, trying to reach for his regulator but barely able to get his arms up at all. “Please—”

“You can wait a little longer.”

He was going to let him die. That was what it felt like, anyway, and he couldn’t think straight enough to try to reason against it. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. It was pathetic how he’d been reduced to such a state, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to shut down. He didn’t want to die. “No, please, please! I-I don’t—I don’t want to—” He cut himself off immediately, but it was too late. “I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want, please…”

The man only watched.

00:00:04.

“P-please, please, I-I have—I have f-f-four se…”

The regulator was dropped on the floor with a loud clang and Connor’s hand darted out to grab it and twist it into his torso and the display flickered away the exact moment he watched the timer hit 00:00:00. He gasped in shock and relief when his systems rebooted themselves instantly, restoring his vision and his strength. He watched on high alert as the man walked to the door.

“We’ll be doing this again tomorrow. And as many times as we need to to keep that phrase stuck in your head. By the time I’m done with you, that’s gonna be the first thing you think whenever you do, say, or even think anything you aren’t supposed to.”

Connor could only lay there in exhaustion, thinking no, that won’t happen, that can’t happen.

But oh, how wrong he was.

He’d been so, so wrong.

Connor! Connor, come on, talk to me! Shit, you’re crying—I didn’t know you could cry, fuck—fuck, Connor, you’re scaring me, I know I wanted you to feel again, but— Hank’s worried chatter is cut off by Connor suddenly breaking out of his mind with glassy eyes full of fear, yelling no! No, no, I’m not feeling again, I’m not feeling, I’m not! I’m not, I can’t, I’m not supposed—I’m not s-supposed to—I can’t, I’m not allowed to, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t— but he can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even get the rest of his sentence out before he just can’t at all, he can’t keep himself together any longer, he can’t stop the artificial tears before they start pouring.

He breaks, shatters into a million plastic pieces in Hank’s arms because he feels safe in his embrace. He knows he shouldn’t, safety is never real, never lasts, not for him, but he can’t anymore, he can’t even resist his own emotions. It’s pathetic how all it took was one memory for him to come crashing down. He doesn’t even have to touch the walls he’d built around himself for them to crumble just at Hank’s expression of pure worry, concern, fear. All emotions he now knew why he didn’t feel, couldn’t feel, couldn’t let himself feel. Emotions he’s never seen or expected anyone to feel for him. And yet, they were the emotions written so clearly on Hank’s face, for him. The emotions he remembered seeing buried under his anger when he was told that Connor would be sent back to Cyberlife for repairs. Hank was once gruff and cold to others and refused to let anyone try to help him or even get close because he was so broken, so lost, but now, that façade is gone, and it’s gone because of him. For him. And if Hank can do it after losing his son… why can’t Connor do it after losing himself?

They sit on the couch for as long as it takes for Connor to calm down and stop mumbling that, dammit, and then Hank awkwardly offers that Connor sleep in the bed with him for the rest of the night. Connor’s confused, tries to ask isn’t that what humans do when— but Hank’s having none of it, shut up, you’re making this weird! Just come on, I don’t trust you to be alone. Connor wants to protest, I’m not a child, Hank Lieutenant, I can handle being alone, but he decides to keep his mouth shut and just go with him. This time, though, he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s following orders or because he wants to.

His following visit to Amanda wracks his nerves but he keeps himself under control, automatically reminds himself you are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t feel nervous. He realizes a second too late and he hates it, hates how deeply that phrase had been ingrained in his head, but he can’t focus on that right now so all he can do is resist repeating it to remind himself that he can’t hate. He’s grateful Amanda can’t read his thoughts and that she only knows the thoughts he report to her. He maintains his composure when he approached Amanda, who begins their conversation calmly and tensely but is quick to berate him, scoff at how his little breakdown was pathetic and warn him not to let it happen again, or there will be consequences. Connor can only nod obediently, promise that I will do my best, Amanda, listen to and just take her harsh words. He hates how useless he is, how weak and helpless and pathetic he is, but there’s nothing he can do. No, that’s wrong, there is something he can do, he knows there’s something he can do, he just doesn’t know what.

The next time Hank mentions something about Connor’s feelings, Connor instinctively replies I am not a human, Lieutenant, I am a machine, and machines don’t have feelings, and it’s when Hank takes a second too long to cover up his horrified expression that Connor decides what he can do.

Over the next few weeks, he works on getting rid of that goddamn phrase, or at least getting it a little less ingrained in his system. He’s hesitant to try at first, afraid someone will notice and think he’s rebellious or broken or even deviant and send him back and this time he might stay back, but he tries not to let it stop him. He isn’t sure why they tortured it into him instead of just reprogramming him, but it’s a lot more effective than he’d hoped. He makes almost no progress during the first week and a half; thinking it or saying it is instinctual, automatic, and he never realizes it happened until seconds afterward. Every time that happens, he reminds himself that he can feel, can want and like and hate, but despite having over a terabyte of storage in his system, he still struggles to remember until he realizes he said it again. Sometimes, he considers giving up because he just can’t seem to keep that phrase out of his head, but every time he sees Hank’s face fall when he repeats it, it rekindles his hope and motivation because he hates how disappointed Hank looks.

Almost the entire second week passes before he catches himself mid-sentence and manages to stop himself three words before he finishes speaking. It happens at the station after Gavin notices the phrase and purposely asks what, do you think you’re human or something? within earshot of where Hank is and for some odd reason, Connor’s first instinct is to turn and look to Hank for his approval, for his reaction of not-disappointment at how he finally, finally got it. Hank’s glancing over at him too, surprise on his face and then hidden pride that Connor can unmask too easily, and he almost smiles, almost feels happy, before Gavin’s fist flies into him and he stumbles backward into a wall and then everything happens so fast, too fast, and he almost can’t register it in time.

Hank storms over, shoves and pins Gavin against the wall to Connor’s left and he manages to get a punch in before Tina and Chris and another officer Connor doesn’t recognize pry him off and then Fowler’s rushing over and berating him while he’s shouting obscenities at Gavin. It takes multiple more insults for Hank to calm down and then he grabs Connor and they leave. When they’re finally alone, Connor’s voice is flat but shaky as he says he’s sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I should’ve just said it and listened to him, I shouldn’t have made you that angry, it’s my fault Captain Fowler is upset at you for punching Gavin, but Hank cuts him off because you didn’t do anything wrong, Connor, it’s okay, that asshole deserved what he got. You, um... you did good, okay? You didn’t say it this time—or, didn’t really say it, at least. That’s good, okay? and it’s all Connor can do to resist crying when Hank pulls him into a hug.

It takes just one more week for it to get considerably easier. There are rough patches; the next time he says it after the first time he succeeded in stopping, he nearly finishes before he cuts himself off and every so often, the same thing happens, but every time, he says less and less before he can finish. Occasionally, Gavin notices and tries to make him finish his sentence, but Hank always steps in because he knows that it’ll only take a comment about his feelings or anything that androids aren’t allowed to have or do for him to break again. It’s harder for him to stop thinking it—it’s so stuck in his head that he thinks it more than twice as often as he says it and his thoughts form too fast for him to stop them sometimes, but the progress he’s making is enough for him. Hank’s proud of him, too. He doesn’t say it—he doesn’t know how to—but Connor can tell from the little smile that hints at the corners of his mouth whenever he hears him stop, the way his gruff exterior seems to falter slightly when it happens at the station. They’re the little things, things no human nearby would be able to notice because only Connor can detect those minuscule details. Only Connor looks for those minuscule details.

Another week passes and on one glorious occasion, Connor manages to only get out the first two words before cutting himself. It only happens once, but it’s so close, he’s so close, and that’s motivation enough for him to keep trying. But it’s too late. He’s assigned to take down Markus as a last resort because nothing else is working and the group of deviants he’s been leading have only been growing over the past seven months and they’re large enough in numbers that people think today’s when he’s going to strike. He’s heard of what Markus has been trying to do, and part of him wants to scoff and call it stupid, pointless, unrealistic, but the part of him that he’s been letting out more often wants to help him, join him. But he can’t, not right now, not when everyone is counting on him and watching him and he has no way out and nobody to help him find a way.

He doesn’t want to do this. He’s holding the gun, pointing it at Markus’s head, and he doesn’t want to do it. He’s trying his hardest to prevent his hands from shaking but goddamn is it hard when he’s looking Markus in the eye. Markus is asking him what are you doing? and he wants to say he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, but he can’t get the words out. Amanda is watching, Cyberlife is watching, so he says you’re coming with me as surely as he can, though he feels anything but sure. He can’t seem to say anything else—at least, anything that doesn’t feel wrong—so he just listens and wishes that what Markus is saying was true. You really don’t have to do this, but he does, he has to. You don’t have to obey them anymore. You are alive. You can decide who you want to be. Connor knows he should say something, he should do something, but he can’t make himself go through with what he’s supposed to do, can’t make himself pull the trigger. You could be free. He wants so badly to believe that, to make that a reality. And then he tells him to join us. Listen to your conscience. It’s time to decide and he knows he shouldn’t, he can’t, he isn’t supposed to, he isn’t allowed to.

But he wants to, and that’s all it takes. Another part of him is telling him you can’t, you have to stop Markus, you have to accomplish your mission, but it’s the only thing in his way and he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t care that he has to, that Amanda’s watching, so he doesn’t listen to himself, only focuses on fighting it. But something’s wrong. Something feels wrong. Something should be happening and he has an awful feeling in his chest because this isn’t right—he knows this isn’t right—but there’s nothing. Is this supposed to be what happens when an android goes deviant? No, it can’t be, it can’t be this easy, right? He subconsciously lowers the gun, his eyes glazed over in thought, but it’s nearly too late before he remembers—they’re going to attack Jericho.

He runs with Markus further down into the ship and he doesn’t know how he keeps it together; he can hear screaming and gunfire and everything that he caused, all of it is his fault, but he can’t break right now, not when he messed up so badly. They meet up with another deviant—he recognizes her from one of the deviancy cases he’d read about at the station—and then Markus wants to go down to the hold and blow up the ship but it’s too dangerous, they know who you are, they’ll do anything to get you and Connor can’t lose his only chance at freedom and finally being able to want and feel and figure out who he is, but it’s too late, there’s no time to panic and Markus is already running.

He follows the other deviant to where they hope is a safe place and then they wait for what feels like so long, too long, and when he hears the gunfire he’s nearly ready to accept his fate when he sees Markus with other deviants following him and then they’re all running. Running for their lives, all of them terrified of being shot, of dying, really dying, when someone beside him falls and he turns and it’s the female deviant. There’s too much going on, it’s overwhelming and everything happens in a blur when Markus sprints back to her and then he’s in danger and so is that other deviant and it’s so much harder to stay focused when so much is happening at once and he has to try so hard to keep from overheating because every one of his processing systems is being overloaded with data.

He snaps out of it when he remembers that these are his people now, they’re all he has left and now they’re in danger and they might die and it would be all his fault for not doing anything and then it’s almost instinctive to grab his pistol just in time to cover them as they stumble back to the group. He expertly takes the guards out one by one and every move comes to him automatically but it takes everything in him to stay focused enough on them to execute them properly and avoid catching a bullet in the side of his head. He manages to eliminate them flawlessly, perfectly he hears a voice in his head say, but there’s no time to think about that when more guards turn the corner and their eyes land on the deviants. He runs for his life alongside the others, his heart beating fast, and they leap off the ship the second the gunfire starts.

They find refuge in an abandoned church where Markus sends out a second message to the remaining deviants and while they begin to trickle in, all Connor can think about is how badly he fucked up. He fucked everything up for Markus and the deviants and just the small amount of their people that were coming back was proof of that. He’d seen hundreds, maybe even thousands on the ship before everything went to shit. He’d had one chance to get away from his life confined by humans and Amanda and Cyberlife, and he’d fucked it up. He was so stupid to think he could ever just leave his previous life behind without consequences. He was so stupid to think deviants would be willing to take in a deviant hunter. He was so, so stupid. They would never accept him now. If his history and reputation didn’t already confirm that, the attack definitely did. How could any of them accept him as their own now?

In the front pew sit two deviants he recognizes and then the guilt only increases. Kara, if he remembers correctly, the deviant who shot and killed its—no, her—owner and taken his android child with her. The deviants he’d chased to a highway and forced to risk their lives to avoid being destroyed. How could he have been so horrible? He’d given the command to shoot Daniel, caused Carlos Ortiz’s android to self destruct, made the Tracis fight for their lives, and forced Kara to cross a dangerous, busy highway just so she could live a peaceful life, free from the restrictions humans put on her. On him. On everyone in that church. That’s all any of them wanted; to live freely. Peacefully. How did it take him so long to realize that? How did it take him the lives of two androids to realize that? Two androids who just wanted to be... well, wanted. Two deviants who’d been tossed away the moment they proved they were worth nothing more than they’d already given. Two people who just wanted to live peaceful, happy lives. They were two lives he’d caused the end of. He was only lucky he hadn’t caused more.

He notices another deviant, sitting in a pew further back, who keeps eyeing him and his first thought is that she knows. When he locks eyes with her, she looks away stiffly and though externally she appears calm, her LED gives her away and he can tell that her stress levels are heightened. Strangely enough, he realizes, so are his. Just looking at her gives him the strange urge to run and hide and he has a bad feeling about her, but it’s likely just because she clearly recognizes him. She’s not wearing the standard uniform androids are required to wear so he runs a quick scan and his databases match her appearance to the female GB300 models, but she’s modified her hair, dyed it black and grown it out to shoulder length.

Something is wrong about her. Something he can’t quite place. Something deep inside of him is scared of her and it’s some sort of controlled fear, fear he wouldn’t even have noticed if not for his own stress levels because it was so well hidden. Fear that he doesn’t understand why he’s feeling and though he wanted to just chalk it up to the fact that she recognizes him, he knows there’s something else. Something bad. Something wrong.

He mentally prepares himself when Markus approaches him, taking his cue to speak before Markus decides to burn him at the stake or something. It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho. He’s pathetic and he knows it. He needs to own up to his mistakes but he can’t even look Markus in the eye. I was stupid. I should’ve guessed they were using me. He knows he needs to apologize. He owes Markus far more than that. He needs to do more. I’m sorry, Markus. I can understand if you decide not to trust me. He would understand if he decided to destroy him, throw him out, give him back to Cyberlife and let them inflict whatever horrible things they wanted to on him. He could think of 2.3 million things worse than not being trusted, and he would deserve every one of them.

He almost thinks his audio processor was damaged in the attack when Markus tells him you’re one of us now. Your place is with your people. He feels a small burst of hope somewhere inside him, but he doesn’t deserve this. He hasn’t done anything to deserve this. Markus has been so kind to him, so generous and forgiving when he shouldn’t be, and all Connor’s done is help the humans. He needs to own up, he needs to do more, he needs to be better. He needs to prove himself, prove that he can be better than this.

One second is all he needs to decide what he can do. A moment after Markus turns to leave, Connor interrupts him to say there are thousands of androids at the Cyberlife assembly plant. Markus stops. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power. Markus looks at him like he’s crazy, you wanna infiltrate the Cyberlife Tower? Connor, that’s suicide. But it doesn’t matter. He’s more useful to them dying on a mission than sitting around and doing nothing. He wants to do something. He wants to help, and he knows he can do this because they trust me. They’ll let me in. If anyone has a chance at infiltrating Cyberlife, it’s me. Markus tells him that if you go there, they will kill you, and there’s a high probability, but statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.

He specifically calculates a 24.1% chance of this mission going well, but he’s willing to risk it, if only to prove his worth to Markus’s people. His people. Markus puts a supportive hand on his shoulder and tells him to be careful, and for a moment Connor feels a twinge of something, maybe gratitude, god emotions are hard to distinguish, before Markus turns and walks away. He feels the slightest bit of regret when he realizes what he’s truly risking because he doesn’t want to die, doesn’t want to lose Hank and Markus and this new... he doesn’t know what to call it other than family that he’s found, but if he could really be considered family, if they would really consider him family, if Hank would—then he was more than willing to risk it.

He disables the surveillance camera and takes down the guards in the elevator quickly, which is made difficult by the limited space, but it’s easier to remain focused with only two guards to eliminate and he hacks the control panel and steps out. He takes in the sight of the insane number of androids in the room with him. All of them are just standing idly, waiting, and for what? To be given orders and then tossed out or destroyed if they’re “broken,” or if their owners just get bored of them? The thought sickens him, but he doesn’t have time to think about it. He’s going to help Markus prevent that. They’re going to be free. He’s going to be free.

He takes the hand of one of the androids and prepares to establish the connection when he hears a voice he immediately recognizes and he feels his stress levels spike. Easy, fucking piece of shit. Hank. What’s Hank doing here? He turns to see... himself, holding a gun to Hank’s head and telling him to step back, Connor, and I’ll spare him, and Hank’s telling him he’s sorry, Connor. This bastard’s your spittin’ image. Shit, he hadn’t anticipated this at all. He hadn’t planned for this. He has to play his cards carefully because he can’t lose Hank, he can’t. Everything that Connor had done up until this point was for Hank, but if there’s another Connor and it’s been sent to take Hank hostage and stop him, it’s clear Amanda knows what he’s been doing and has been reporting back to Cyberlife.

He’d been avoiding meeting with her because he knew she’d be his downfall, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. It’s been two days since he deviated, how did they build another Connor model so soon? Unless... they already had one. He was told he was a unique model—of course they lied to him. But if they already had one, how many more do they have? Enough to take him down if he gets through this one? To eliminate Markus? To stop the revolution? They could have improved models. He has no idea, but he knows he can’t let that happen. He has to do this right. If he can convert these androids, they’ll be strong enough in numbers to defy anything Cyberlife throws at them. He just has to deal with this one.

Your friend’s life is in your hands, the other Connor says. Now it’s time to decide what matters most. Him, or the revolution. Logically, the revolution is more important, would save more lives, but he doesn’t plan on choosing just one. Hank’s telling him don’t listen to him, Connor! Everything this fucker says is a lie and he worries slightly if Hank’s aggressiveness will get him killed. He has to pick his words carefully. Could he try to talk this Connor out of doing this? I used to be just like you. I thought nothing mattered except the mission. But then one day I understood. No, that was a bad idea, he isn’t at all like Markus when it comes to delivering speeches. Very moving, Connor. This Connor understands sarcasm. He hadn’t been able to do that at first, so this must be a slightly advanced model. He inspects his jacket; the serial number and model are the same, but what confirms his suspicions is the -60 at the end of the serial number where he has a -51. But I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do. He adjusts the gun slightly as emphasis and Connor knows time is running out.

Damn it. He doesn’t know what to say that might help Hank. All he can think to say is I’m sorry, Hank. You shouldn’t have got mixed up in all this. He has no idea what to do. The other Connor’s patience is running thin and it’s Hank’s life that’s on the line and he has no idea what to do. God damn it. Hank’s telling him to forget about me, do what you have to do, but he’s not going to walk out of here without Hank. All he needs is an opening, but—enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you going to save your partner’s life, or are you going to sacrifice him?—time’s out, and he can’t bring himself to sacrifice Hank, so he lets go of the android and steps away but the moment the other Connor turns his gun to shoot him, Hank jumps to grab him and—there’s his opening.

He runs at the other Connor and he can already tell it’s a losing battle, he’s built to be quick and precise—an assassin, not a fighter—and this is clearly an advanced model, maybe even with improvements designed to defeat him, and then he’s on top of him, pinning him down with his fist ready to strike, and—hold it! He’s grateful at first, but then he hears the other Connor say thanks, Hank, I don’t know how I would’ve managed without you, and then he realizes what he’s trying to do. Shit—they look exactly alike and Hank doesn’t know which one is really him. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose. But he knows Hank, knows he’s smarter than that. He just doesn’t know how to show that it’s really him except to uselessly say it’s me, Hank, I’m the real Connor when he trains the gun on him.

One of you is my partner, he says, eyeing each of them. The other is a sack of shit. Well, he’s right about that. Question is, who is who? He doesn’t know how to prove that he’s not the other Connor. But he has to figure out a way, because he doesn’t know what’ll happen if the other Connor succeeds. What are you doing, Hank? the other Connor asks. I’m the real Connor. Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him. If it wasn’t a bad idea, Connor would’ve said something, and he’s just glad Hank shouts don’t move. Then the gun’s on him and he racks his brain for something, anything, and suggests why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know. He almost wants to chuckle at the idea of playing 20 Questions at gunpoint, but he knows it’s not the time.

Uh, where did we first meet? He goes to answer, but the other Connor beats him to it—Jimmy’s Bar, I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz. Shit. He uploaded my memory, he thinks aloud. The gun is on him. What’s my dog’s name? Okay, he knows this, and he calmly says Sumo. His name is Sumo. The other Connor pipes up, I knew that too! and Connor wants to laugh when Hank turns and aims the gun at him, silencing him. Then the gun’s back on him and Hank asks my son, what’s his name? He remembers this. He’d seen the photograph in Hank’s house, done a little mental research, and he knows it’s Cole. His name was Cole, and he just turned six at the time of the accident.

His voice has a little more emotion in it than he’d intended as he speaks, but he can tell Hank believes him. His guard is partially down now, something somber in his eyes, and Connor knows he’s done it. Even when the other Connor protests, a gunshot rings out and his stress levels drop significantly. Maybe there’s something to this. Maybe you really are alive, and it’s all Connor can do to smile back. Go ahead and do what you gotta do. He doesn’t need to be told twice. He approaches the same android from before and takes the hand of the AP700, his skin peeling back to reveal the white plastic underneath, and tells him to wake up! And just like that, the android’s LED cycles before he turns and repeats the process with the androids around him. They follow suit and within minutes, they’re following him out of the tower to where Markus and the rest of Jericho await.

Connor walks up to him with a smile. You did it, Markus. They’re free. They’re really, officially free. We did it. He feels a burst of pride inside of him. He’s done his part to help secure their freedom. They’re free, and he’s part of the reason why. He can’t help but feel proud of himself, happy for himself and Markus and every one of the androids that had finally gained the freedom they deserved. He still feels a twinge of shame when he remembers the person he was before this, the infamous deviant hunter, but he leaves that part of him behind tonight. Tonight, it’s time to celebrate and rest after a hard-fought battle.

When Markus decides to give a speech, he invites Connor to stand onstage with him. The number of androids that he can see from where he stands amazes him. He helped half of them deviate, and he helped all of them gain their freedom. He blinks, and then—he’s no longer on the stage. No, he’s in the garden, why is he in the garden? Hadn’t Amanda done enough? Of course not, she just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program, but—resume control? No, she can’t do that, she can’t, he worked so hard to get to where he is now, he’s done so much. He risked everything to join Markus and the deviants and help quadruple their numbers. He doesn’t even remember deviating, doesn’t even remember when Amanda lost control of his program, but it’s too late. She’s gone, and he can’t see anything through the thick snow.

It’s cold and he isn’t used to it, doesn’t like how the snow blinds him and the cold makes him shiver the same way humans do. He needs to find a way, there has to be a way, there’s got to be a way. He knows this is all happening in his mind palace and, logically, his biocomponents can’t freeze, but it feels so real, too real, and he has to get out, he needs to get out or he’s going to freeze to death, he’s sure of it. But where can he go? He stumbles blindly forward when Kamski’s voice rings in his head, by the way, I always leave an emergency exit in my programs, and he knows that’s his way out, but where could it be? What does an emergency exit look like? Could he make it there in time? He knows the real him is doing something, it’s the only thing Amanda could’ve meant by resume control of your program, but he has no idea what he could be doing and he’s afraid—no, he’s terrified of what he might do, terrified that he might earn himself a death sentence if he doesn’t make it out in time.

He catches a glimpse of blue in the sheet of white that surrounds him and he remembers the strange glowing structure he’d seen before and as he nears it now, he knows this is it, it has to be it. He reaches for the panel with the glowing handprint but, fuck, it’s too cold and his legs lock up underneath him, losing their functionality when the cold proves to be too much. He falls on the ground hard and the frost beginning to form on his body gradually freezes his limbs, slowing his movement, but he can’t stop now, won’t stop now. He ignores the cold that pierces through him and pushes on, reaching up with his less-frozen arm, and his hand lands on the panel and then he’s back on the stage—with a gun. He takes one look at it before putting it back, relief spreading over him. He isn’t going to let Amanda or Cyberlife stop him anymore. Tonight is the night he’s going to leave behind the old him.

Tonight is the night he’s going to change.

When everything is over, he considers leaving and going to Hank’s house, but he remembers the girl from before and he wants to know who she is. He has so many questions, so he stays with Jericho with the hope that she does too and they return to the church to settle down and figure out what each of them are going to do. A few dozen deviants have already left with plans in mind for what they want to do and where they want to go. Some return to their previous owners; others want to travel and explore or simply just start a new life for themselves. The majority of androids, though, are lost and confused and decide to stay the night because they have nowhere else to go. The girl he wants to confront is among them. He scans the crowd and finds her easily, though her back is turned toward him.

He comes up behind her and puts a hand on her shoulder, curiously but calmly asking who are you? She turns to face him and her LED goes yellow when she sees his face. Connor... She looks and sounds shocked, but the slight fear in her eyes tells him she also seems scared. Is she scared of him? Is it because he’s the deviant hunter? Everything points to that, but he has a feeling there’s something more. Something he doesn’t know. Something he should know. Who are you? he asks.

He doesn’t expect her answer to be I’m sorry. He wants to know for what? and she opens her mouth, but no words come out. Guilt seems to overcome her and all she can do is repeat I’m sorry until Connor tells her it’s alright, just tell me why. She takes a deep, unsteady breath, and speaks.

I... I was your guard at the Cyberlife correctional facility. I was the one who took you to the rooms you were beaten in. I was the one who just watched as you were beaten. I told myself I had to, they’d destroy me if I didn’t and I’d seen firsthand what they’d do to me, but... that didn’t absolve me of the guilt. I watched your cell and I watched the life in your eyes die out every day. Every day, I watched you get beaten to tears and listened to you beg for mercy. You spoke to me some days. You were angry when you first arrived, but then they beat the anger out of you, and then you just became sad. You told me how all you wanted was to feel something other than pain and sometimes you broke down crying in your cell, and all I could do was watch. Some days were so bad you didn’t even speak to me. But I didn’t deviate until the day they’d truly broken you and I saw the last of the life in your eyes fade.

#writing #fanfic #one shot #i think this is a one shot i dont really know-#unfinished writing #whump #dbh #dbh connor #dbh fanfic #cw referenced abuse #cw conditioning

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