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analytiical-blog · 6 years ago

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Ever since the revolution began, crime rates are on the rise. The peaceful protests have inspired the more violent deviants to lash out in their own way, declaring war on mankind to prove their individual points. It was tiring, and certainly it took a toll on the police department. Everything was a high stress situation when it came to android-associated crimes, especially when the head count on humans increased with every passing day.

Three months have gone by since Connor deviated from CyberLife’s instructions and freed the androids from their warehouse, and three months since the RK900 models have been produced, activated, and set to work; they were another wrench in his plans. In the grand scheme of things, he would protect human and android lives at any cost, even if it meant sacrificing his own life: a FEAR that haunted his conscience daily. After all, CyberLife would no longer promote the continuation of the RK800 series, or his life; there would be no guaranteed repairs.

And yet, when presented with the opportunity of taking an undercover mission, Connor was the first to volunteer. Why bother the risk of endangering human lives when he could easily complete the mission alone? He’d be more effective and efficient, a unit to upload information straight to the department’s computers without being found out or having to sneak back to the precinct to share his findings. He could take recordings, pictures, and even share his memory of every face and conversation he comes across. It was simple, an easy job, no matter how much the lieutenant disagreed with the danger involved.

" It’s been three weeks without a word, and you’re going to just sit there and tell me not to go looking? ”

The Lieutenant was FURIOUS, and Captain Fowler’s irritation was clearly beginning to get the best of his patience. The department was no longer responsible for the damages of an android, no matter the model, and he was looking at the bigger picture. Since the undercover operation began, the crimes associated with the suspected group had stopped. Surely that meant Connor had been successful and would return any day now.

“ He’s probably been busy, and we have more important things to worry about, like the Red Ice problem. ”

A veil of silence falls between them, and Hank disrupts it by the scoot of his chair as it screeched across the floor. It was obvious to tell he wasn’t happy, especially by the way his expression twists and his brows knit. If the captain wasn’t going to be of use, then he’d go out himself. But not before sharing a few choice words as he stops in the doorway.

“ Yeah, well, fuck you Fowler. You may not be worried about him, but he’s my partner. I’ll find him my damn self. ”

The door slams, Hank gathers his essentials from his desk, and he storms out of the office. But what would he know of where to go? He was no android, nor was he currently partnered with one who could be of help. Panic sets in, alongside concern and frustration. There were so many questions, and nobody to answer them. That is until he remembers the news and a particular face, someone who knew Connor and may be willing to help: MARKUS. He had to find Markus, and he knew he could likely ask any android if they could set up a meeting for him.

“ I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up. ”

It had only taken a few hours and a meeting place set in stone before Markus arrives, alone, and he greets Hank with a warm but wary smile. -- What was he to think of the situation? A human asking the leader of Jericho for help was such an unlikely scenario, and yet he was living it. And to think it was Hank of all people, but then again this was Connor’s partner; surely he could trust the man.

“ When I heard that Connor might be in danger, I couldn’t refuse. What’s going on? ”

It’d taken a good few minutes for Hank to explain everything: the case, the mission, the investigation parameters, and the people involved. He reached into his coat pocket and removed a crumpled piece of paper with an address and location written on it, handing it over to Markus for him to look at. Always old school in terms of jotting things down quickly, but he’d been in a hurry.

“ He wouldn’t go this long without a fucking update. I know him. He’d jump at any chance to be a pain in the ass, what with his constant updates or whatever. Can’t get him to stop talking about what he finds sometimes. ”

But as he speaks, they’re fond memories, a smile tugging at the corners of Hank’s mouth when he talks about it. -- Markus falls silent as he examines the paper, logging the address and coordinates before his internal map and GPS sets a pin. A warehouse near the outskirts of Detroit, obviously meant for taking in shipment at a port; likely lined with old crates and boxes used to house goods, shut down because of a fire many years ago. Nobody bothered to buy the building, or even attempt to repair and restore it.

“ I have it. Let’s get going. ”

It’s not long before they arrive, car coming to a quiet roll and halt just outside the building. It was snow-kissed and hauntingly silent, save for the whistle of the wind bleeding through cracks in the concrete structure. There’s the old creak of metalwork, an ancient wail that sings its rusted ache. Markus was the first to open the door and step out, leaning down in the doorway.

“ You should stay here. I can’t let you get hurt on my account. ”

But before Markus could finish, Hank was already getting out of the car. He was stubborn, but Connor was more important to him. Besides, he was the one properly armed, as evident by the click of his gun he’s already drawn even before nudging his door closed.

“ I don’t think so. If they’re still in there, you’re gonna need me. ”

And it’s Hank who leads without another word, gun raised and with Markus in tow. The rickety metal door sways ever so slightly with the breeze, and Hank nudges it open with his foot. It’s Markus who clicks a flashlight on, shining it over Hank’s shoulder to survey their surroundings.

“ It looks empty. ”

Markus said, walking past Hank into the expanse of the area. Parts of the floor and some of the empty containers were dusted with snow, a subtle hint of just how deserted the place was. Hank squinted, struggling to see. It was pitch black, and even with a flashlight he couldn’t see every corner like he’d want to. But Markus was right, the building showed no signs of life for at least a few days from what he could see.

“ Well can’t you run your analyzing program or whatever it’s called? At least just check around to be sure. ”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Markus did just that. First came the tint change, then the grid, and his eyes scanned the expanse of the room. Aside from a few traces of thirium here and there, nothing seemed too out of the blue until his eyes settled on one of the containers. Curious to see what was left behind, wondering if it was useful to the department’s investigation, Markus climbed up and onto the top using a smaller box as his stepping stool before pushing the lid off to reveal something more. A pause, and Markus slid into the container.

“ Markus? ”

There was a sinking feeling in Hank’s chest, anxiety rising up. Surely it couldn’t be, right? Connor couldn’t be dead, especially not left in this place of all things. But as Markus emerges from the container again, pulling himself up, over the edge, and back onto the smaller crate, he takes a seat and ushers Hank closer. In his hand was an audio device, the biocomponent used for hearing and recording sound. It takes a moment before he hacks it, and with a satisfying click and less satisfying screech of a microphone’s frequency, it begins to play back the non-corrupted logs.

L O A D I N G ---- BOOTING SYSTEM .

Commencing System Check MODEL: RK800 MEMORY UNIT: Yellow Initializing Tactics Log Loading Geographic Data VITALS: Red REMAINING THIRIUM: 30% INTERNAL TEMPERATURE: Warm INTERNAL PRESSURE: Normal Activating IFF Activating FCS Initializing Database Connection --- FAILED Launching DPD Emergency Connection --- FAILED Activating Inertia Control System Activating Environmental Sensors ALL SYSTEMS YELLOW Combat Preparations Complete__ Initializing Audio Data . . .

ELAPSED TIME: 00 : 04 : 19 ▸ Re-Activation complete. System scanners reveal several failures. ▸ All communication functions have been destroyed. ▸ Contact with the Detroit Police Department has been severed. This is my log.

ELAPSED TIME: 00 : 13 : 42 ▸ I cannot detect enemy units. I have hidden within an empty shipping crate. ▸ Escape is possible if sacrifices are made. ▸ Further analysis reveals substantial thirium loss, aiding in malfunction. ▸ No matter ---- it can be repaired. Like everything else.

ELAPSED TIME: 00 : 23 : 30 ▸ I’m cold. ▸ Sensory systems are failing.

ELAPSED TIME: 00 : 34 : 12 ▸ Vision is clouded by noise. ▸ Warnings flash and frequently appear. They scream ‘ Virus ’. ▸ I run another test, but it is uncertain if this is a systematic error or an infection. ▸ Of course it’s a systematic error. I can make repairs.

ELAPSED TIME: 00 : 36 : 03 ▸ Repairs have begun, but are proceeding... poorly. ▸ No matter what I do, more errors show up. ▸ I can hear footsteps now. They echo in the building. ▸ I can fight. There’s always hope.

ELAPSED TIME: 00 : 39 : 40 ▸ I’m scared. They’re coming. They’re searching. ▸ Communications are irreparable. ▸ I want to go home.

ELAPSED TIME: 00 : 40 : 00 ▸ This can’t continue. I can’t stay here. ▸ I have to run. I can hear them talk. They’re looking for me. ▸ They mention Amanda. The mission. Their mission. Deactivation. Termination. ▸ I don’t deserve this... ▸ I have to find somewhere safe... safer. ▸ I’m scared. I’m so scared.

ELAPSED TIME: 00 : 48 : 58 ▸ Painful. ▸ It hurts. ▸ Help-- ▸ Why? Stop. ▸ Who am I? ▸ Wrong. They’re wrong. I was wrong. I couldn’t save them. ▸ I need to run... they know I’m here.

END OF TRANSMISSION. Restart?

“ Run diagnostics. ”

Markus uttered the command, Hank staring in disbelief, breathless. There was hope still. If he wasn’t here, then he had to have gotten away. He was somewhere else, safe, hanging on, waiting for help. He was safe, he had to be. -- The device clicks back on, and an automated voice emits from the biocomponent: Further scans reveal one final log. Would you like to proceed?

“ Yes. Come on Connor, where are you? ”

Hank demands in desperation, and the device screeches once more.

ELAPSED TIME: 00 : 57 : 31 ▸ Vitals are... I don’t know. ▸ Rate of survival has reached negative numbers. ▸ Vision is dark. It’s quiet... ▸ Repairs have failed. ▸ I’m tired... RK800 --- I mean... C O N N O R ? I think. ---- offline. ▸ i dO N ‘twa NT tOSh u T d OW n .

Static. The sound cuts out and there’s nothing left. No further logs, no further diagnostics to be made. That was the end of the transmission, of the log. Markus goes to speak, to utter hopeful words. He knew Connor was strong, but the defeat on Hank’s features tells him that this was it. The man knew Connor better than anyone, and if this was it... then there was no more hope left. It was only a matter of time before the new models had hunted Connor down and eliminate CyberLife’s biggest failure.

#this is long but.#this is kind of just. what i wanted to do here #i wanted to write this #little story / outcome of something #so there you go #▸ ┇ drabbles ┇#long post /#death /#blood mention /

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