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Connor tucks the gun in the waistband of his pants and walks towards the middle of the warehouse, white walls clinical and cold.
He steps towards one of the AP700s and pauses. He needs to convert all of them, but.
There are a lot of them, and Connor wonders how Markus managed to make so many androids join him in such a short amount of time. Well, the probability of Markus being Ra9 is definitely higher now.
Connor leans in and pulls an AP700 closer to him with hands on the latter’s shoulders. The android follows his motion calmly.
Connor brings his face closer and presses his lips to the other’s. He doesn’t pay too much attention to the way the Android’s LED rolls red and yellow for a moment, nor to the way it responds with molding its lips against his. He slowly goes to move his tongue on, ready to complete the conversion and move on, when he hears Hank cursing, turning to see another RK800 holding a gun to his partner's head.
“Easy, fucking piece of shit.” Hank turns his head to Connor, who still has his face in close proximity to the android he was converting. “Wait, what the fuck are you—“
“Step back, Connor, and I’ll spare him.”
Connor still hasn’t pulled away from the AP700, watching the happenings out of the corner of his eye.
“Your friend’s life is in your hands. Now it’s time to decide what matters most. Him,” RK800-60 turns his head to Hank, then turns it back, “or the revolution.”
“Don’t listen to him!” Hank growls, glaring at both the fake Connor and at the AP700 staring longingly at the real Connor’s lips, “Everything this fucker says is a lie!”
Connor thinks that Hank should be at home in his DPD hoodie, cuddling Sumo and watching a Detroit Gears game, not being held at gunpoint by a copy of his partner.
“I’m sorry, Hank!” Connor says, turning slightly to look him in the eye, “You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in all of this!”
“Forget about me, do what you have to do!” Hank preemptively wrinkles his nose in disgust, shutting his eyes.
Connor looks to his clone. (The AP700 is still staring at his lips, somewhat disappointed that they were moving further away from its—no, his—own.) “I used to be just like you. I used to think that nothing mattered except the mission, but then one day I understood.”
“Very moving, Connor.” RK800-60 drawls (looks like they've added sarcasm to models past his own), “But I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s what I am going to do! 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?”
Connor pulls away, the AP700's hands reaching for him before they fall to his sides, pouting sulkily. “Alright, alright. You win.”
The gun is suddenly trained on him. Hank moves to push the gun away, but he’s shot non-lethally in the abdomen for his effort. Then Connor is shot, falling to the floor and gaining a few more bullet holes in his body in quick succession as the other approaches.
The gun is held to his head. “Any last words?”
Staring down the barrel, Connor makes a split-second decision. He grabs the other’s arm and pulls him down, shoving the gun out of his clone’s grasp and wrapping an arm around his neck and a leg around his waist.
Quickly, he pushes his face up and forces his successor’s down, making them lock lips, quickly shoving his tongue into the other’s mouth. He watches -60’s LED flash red as their analysis sensors come into contact with each other’s in a fluid, languid slide.
“For fuck’s sake, Connor!” Hank shouts from the floor nearby. There’s a wet sound as -60 finally starts reciprocating the kiss, a hand moving down to cup Connor's cheek and his hips rolling down into Connor's. Hank winces in disgust, muttering to himself, “Where the fuck did that gun go? I need to shoot two robots and then myself.”
“You’re awake now,” Connor says calmly as he pulls away, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth, a strand of saliva still connecting him to -60. The string is severed with a swipe of his tongue across his lips, a motion watched closely by his successor.
-60 stands up quickly, adjusting his tie and walking away with long strides, not saying a word. His eyebrows remain furrowed and his expression conflicted, LED blinking and flashing amber.
Connor rushes over to Hank, fretting over the human’s injury despite the low chances of Hank dying. The man waves off his concern, telling him to hurry the fuck up and help his people. Reluctantly, Connor complies.
Connor marches back towards the android he was interrupted in converting. Quickly, he initiates a kiss and interacts with the other’s tongue, the android eager to continue what was started. The android moves his hands up to untuck Connor’s shirt, only getting halfway before Connor pulls away, smiling. “Wake up. You're free now.”
Hank hates that even as he averts his eyes, he still hears Connor making out with each. Individual. Fucking. Android. He’s all-too-happy to pass out after somewhere near an hour and a half, but as the darkness swimming in his vision finally begins overtaking his sight, his cheek is patted gently by his partner.
His eyes remain lidded in an unimpressed expression as Connor tells him that one of the newly-made deviants is going to assist him to a hospital. The former deviant hunter’s lips are the slightest bit puffy and red, his hair is messy, and his clothes are rather rumpled, to Hank's distant horror.
Hank’s eye twitches, doesn’t stop twitching even after he’s escorted out and separated from Connor and the group of deviants.
“You did it Markus.” Connor says, stepping out into the direct light with the newest deviants following behind him.
Markus pauses, raking his eyes up and down Connor’s disheveled form with bewilderment.
“Wh—Connor what happened to you?”
The deviants behind the brunet all glance at one another, then bring their eyes back to Connor, many staring at a particular area below his back, no longer properly concealed due to his jacket being set so askew. His shirt is partially unbuttoned, said jacket hanging off of one of his shoulders and halfway down the opposite arm, and his tie, swung over the exposed shoulder, looks more like a leash, at this point.
"It took a while to convert everyone."
One of the deviants behind him snickers, nudging another, and a few others join them.
Markus, eye twitching, can’t bring himself to say anything in response to that.
“Markus, I am sorry to trouble you, but I have a request.” Connor says. They’d just gotten done with the speech, and the brunet looks nervous and unsure as his eyes flick from Markus’ eyes to his lips to the ground.
“What do you need?”
“I… Cyberlife attempted to take control of me. I almost shot you on stage.” Markus’ expression betrays nothing. Connor continues, “I would like to ask for you to…reconvert me, please?”
Markus chokes on his artificial saliva. The way Connor said that, the tone, the hesitant ‘please?’, the lovely flutter of his lashes as he shifts his gaze around…Ra9, it does something to the deviant leader.
Markus nods, opening his arms. Connor comes nearer, hands resting on Markus’ chest, Markus placing one hand on the former deviant hunter’s hip, the other higher up on his back, pulling Connor flush against him.
The brunet angles his face up a little with parted lips, Markus meeting him halfway, and their tongues prod at each other for a second before Markus plunges his into the other’s hot mouth, exploring the orifice to mingle with Connor's tongue. Connor’s hands slide up and go around Markus’ neck, pulling the taller closer and sucking on his tongue to make sure there’s no mistake, no confusion in regards to his deviant status. Markus groans into his mouth, but lights flashing at them accompanied by a loud car horn make the two RK models pull apart.
Connor’s lips are shimmering from the light reflecting off of the saliva coating them and the small bit trailing down his chin, his pupils blown out and the ring of brown remaining hazy and dark.
“Connor, get the fuck into the car!”
“Coming, Hank!”
Markus wants to roll his eyes at his own thoughts in regards to Connor’s statement, but he’s distracted from his apparent immaturity by Connor leaning up and pressing a quick, chaste kiss on Markus’ lips.
There’s another ‘honk’, and Connor leaves with a breathy, “Thank you so much, Markus.”
To the side, North whistles, Josh and Simon crossing their arms while shaking their heads.
"Get some, Markus!"
"North, we weren't supposed to let him know that we were watching--!"
"Okay, but look at his face--!"