Inventory

by rking200 (Mawific)

Summary:

Captain Allen watched the RK800 save Emma Phillips and knew that he needed the android to join his team. After countless calls to CyberLife, they finally yield and Allen's team gets the newly-outdated model added to it. With this new development, Detroit's SWAT is stronger than ever, as long as they're all on the same page. CyberLife has decided to move on to finalizing the RK900 model, in a bid to bolster the US Army's defenses against Russia, so production and repairs have halted for Connor's line. As Connor blends into Allen's group, Allen can't help but see human actions hidden within his mechanical façade. At times, Allen swears he can see it exhibiting anxiety, especially when Connor plays with its favorite coin. Of course, Allen was just falling for the ruse that CyberLife is so adamant on building--there is no way human sentience is alive within that android...right?

Featuring two canon-based characters, Foucher and Guy, created based on internal development names and likenesses. Joining the crew of Detroit's SWAT team are three other original characters, Anita and the two siblings: Mina and Freya.

Created alongside my artist telizere for the DBH RBB 2024 <3

Chapter 1

Notes:

If you're interested in a visual representation of the OCs mentioned, please check out the images linked below:

Foucher Shoutout to DB0 and the Deadray site.
Guy Shoutout to DB0 and the Deadray site.
Mina Art by my partner, pleader600 <3
Freya Art by me! :O
Anita Shoutout to DB0 and the Deadray site.

Also big thanks to No One of Consequence for the code!

CyberLife Tower was stifling in its grandness, each surface a blinding white and polished to perfection. Standing within its walls wasn’t soothing to Allen, and to be honest, the whole place gave him the creeps. He eyed androids that stood on display, as if merchandise. In the end, they were merchandise–but to see them standing there, with no greater purpose than to stand–was something Allen couldn’t quite wrap his head around. What was the point, really?

His Second-in-Command pressed his elbow into his side, and the hollow scraping of their body armor against each other brought Allen back to attention more than the action itself. He glanced over to his friend and comrade, Foucher, before straightening out his posture and furrowing his eyebrows. The call from CyberLife had come at the most inopportune time, and while it wasn’t as dire as during an external call, having their training interrupted was irritating enough. But when the fruits of labor, born from three months of ceaseless phone calls, are laid out in front of you, you don’t let them spoil.

“You’ve still got a chance, you know. To call this all off.” Foucher hadn’t lowered his voice to talk. They weren’t around any humans who could hear them anyway, the CyberLife Tower guards were leaving them to their devices, but the looming walls around them made talking at normal volume seem so wrong.

“Not a chance.” Allen hadn’t whispered, but his tone was gentle.

Foucher shifted his weight, the clunking of his boots against the pristine, tiled floor was much louder than Allen’s voice had been. “I’m not looking forward to having it on the team, but it’ll be nice not to hear your endless whining, day in and day out. It took a toll on me, you know? Never thought I’d see you so vulnerable, and all for a piece of plastic.”

Allen turned his head to stare at Foucher, furrowing his brows in some mild attempt to threaten him. Foucher simply raised his eyebrows, not affording Allen so much as a glance. “I didn’t bring you with me to run your mouth.”

Foucher stared forward as one side of his mouth curled into a smirk. “Why did you bring me, then?”

The pressure in Allen’s temple threatened him with an oncoming headache. He didn’t need Foucher’s sass, and he hoped that he would change his tune as soon as they got the android in their grasp. It was a tool, an invaluable one, and one that had been placed on the decommission chopping block at CyberLife. With all this talk about a potential WWIII, a new prototype was being commissioned by the US army to kick Russia’s ass. The RK900 line would be for fighting, not for negotiating.

Detroit’s SWAT needed the predecessor, RK800, within its ranks. CyberLife had considered handing it over to the Detroit Police Department, but Allen knew it would have been wasted in their hands. Hank Anderson? Please. He’d take the thing out and get drunk with it–and he was the most competent one on their team. Allen had been persistent: sending it to DPD or decommissioning it entirely was far too much of a waste, and he hated wasting things.

As Allen opened his mouth to talk back to Foucher, echoing footsteps cut through the still air. Ahead of them, two guards were escorting Allen’s prize: the RK800 model named Connor.

It had been months since their first meeting during the Phillips’ hostage case. It had taken the place of negotiator, and Allen hadn’t been too keen on sending an android out there to do his team’s job. But the thing had pulled through: it got that PL unit to let Emma Phillips go, saving her. It had said everything the other android had needed to hear, de-escalating the situation in record time.

Connor still looked the same as it had on that night, its clothes creased in the same spots, its shoes immaculately clean. It had, no doubt, been sitting and waiting for new orders or for its trip to the trash heap the whole time Allen had been asking for it.

“Captain Allen.” Connor came to a stop before them, its almost inquisitive eyes drawing Allen’s attention. “It seems we’ll be working together from now on.” Allen extended his hand to the android, a formality that they hadn’t had time for during their first meeting–and maybe an action far too human to offer the amalgamation of plastic and code that mimicked a person so ridiculously well.

“Connor. I’m looking forward to your time with us.” Allen shook its hand, the grip firm but very human. For some reason, Allen had expected a feeling much more disjointed: perhaps a metal framework underneath a glove of silicone. But his hand–its hand–though lacking warmth, felt alive within its guise of humanity.

“And you must be Alexandre Foucher, the team’s COMS official.” The android turned its attention to Allen’s companion, speaking his name with a spot-on French accent that surprised both of them, considering Foucher was American. Foucher shook Connor’s hand weakly, turning his head to catch Allen’s eye.

“You sure about this?” He spoke at full volume once again, but Allen was proud of him for shaking the android’s hand instead of ignoring it. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all, and it was relieving to know Foucher was trying.

Allen looked from his SiC to their new addition, nodding once in determination. “Welcome aboard. Let’s get you back and settled in.”

Outside of the CyberLife Tower, the morning air was crisp. Allen took a deep breath in, much preferring its cold chill to the suffocating stillness from within the sterile building. Their self-driving taxi was waiting for them, much as Foucher and he had left it. As Allen stepped in, he reached and pressed the button to turn the seats around.

As the taxi started the drive back to their center of operations, the air fell uneasily silent. Connor sat before them, its eyes darting between the two but making no move to speak or ask questions about its assignment. Foucher shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Allen knew he was about to run his mouth once again.

“I know this fits into your ‘Sense of Duty’, somehow, but we really don’t need another member. It’s not too late–we can take it right back to CyberLife and be done with it.” Foucher was really trying to irritate Allen’s migraine. “I don’t think using our team as a guinea pig for CyberLife’s software is a good idea–it was insulting enough that they used that hostage situation as a ‘test’ for it! We can’t trust the thing.”

“We keep talking about this. I want an android on our team just about as much as you do. The thing’s programmed to be our best ally on the field. This isn’t about my preference, and it sure as hell isn’t about yours.” Allen tried to catch Foucher’s eye, but he turned to look out the window, no doubt brooding over his Captain’s words. “This is in the Team’s best interest, and in the end, it’s a piece of equipment. Nothing more.”

Foucher stayed silent for a moment, eventually heaving a grand sigh. “Have we done the paperwork for a new piece of equipment?”

Running his mouth again, that probably meant he wasn’t taking it all too seriously. “We can deal with that later today.”

“We,” Foucher huffed another exaggerated sigh, “that means you’re going to make me do it.” Allen opened his mouth to reply, but the android sitting across from them finally spoke up.

“I can do whatever paperwork needs to be done. I can scan, fill out and submit whatever forms you might need.”

“Perfect! We’ll siphon any and all paperwork through you, then.” Foucher was all too quick to speak, the cheeky grin on his face telling Allen he was speaking at his expense.

“No, no.” Allen pressed his fist against his forehead, his gloves inhibiting him from pinching the bridge of his nose. “Our new negotiator needs to get trained, first. And after that, it will be much too important to bother with petty paperwork.” He averted his eyes from Foucher and settled them on Connor, a serious tone overtaking his tired voice. “No paperwork, that’s an order.”

“No paperwork. Understood.” At the very least, it’d be nice having someone around that actually listened to him for once, even if it wasn’t exactly a person.

Foucher once again turned to watch the morning sun as it blanketed their beloved city in its splendor. Allen leaned his head back on his headrest and closed his eyes, trying to still the headache that threatened him, along with his growing feelings of anticipation. He finally had the thing in his grasp, and now he had to convince the rest of the team he had made the best choice. He hoped he could leave that up to Connor’s actions, but in the end their trust would be hard to win over.

The drive back was filled with an awkward silence, as Foucher ignored their newfound tool and kept to himself. Allen was itching to get back to work, and the silence in the cab only furthered the burning within his muscles. Somewhere along the way, Connor procured a coin and fiddled with it. The odd gesture immediately caught Allen’s attention. He watched as Connor ran his thumb over the coin and passed it between his fingers. Without looking down once, the android started to roll the coin off of the back of his fingers, catching it within his palm and starting the motions over again. Watching the coin in its jolted journey across the android’s hand did something to soothe the pressure in Allen’s temples. It was relaxing, in a way.

Connor fidgeted with the coin in his hand the whole way back, transfixing Allen’s eyes as well as his attention. After fighting with why an android would feel the need to fidget, Allen came to a simple conclusion that satisfied him: this display of his motor-skills must have been some type of calibration exercise.
Foucher was first to leave the car, prying the door open before it had fully stopped. Allen sighed, meeting eyes with Connor and moving to leave the car, as well. “Don’t take him personally.”

“I can’t, Captain. I don’t feel those kinds of things.”

That’s right, there should be nothing to apologize for. Allen regarded the android with a singular nod of confirmation–a promise to not see the thing as human and to treat it with all the respect they treated the rest of their equipment.

Allen led Connor into the building, the two of them trailing far behind Foucher’s quick footsteps.

“You’re a successful team to get a building like this, all to yourself,” Connor mused, looking around in relative interest. Allen noticed the absence of the coin, but he wasn’t sure when Connor had put it away.

“It’s been rough, but we’ve proved our worth. My men do better when they’re not running around and doing DPD’s bidding.” There was a time when he and his men were cops by day, and SWAT when called in on occasion. It strained their relationship as a team as well as their ability to perform their best when they were needed. “You’ll come to learn I’m persistent when it comes to what’s best for the Team.”

Ahead of them, Foucher was holding a heated talk with another member of the team, a man nicknamed Guy. He was older than the rest of the group and served as their munitions expert. He kept them sufficiently armed and well-trained on the subject of their arms. Allen held a fondness for every member of his team, but Guy was always the first he went to for advice. He trusted Foucher as his SiC, of course, but Guy had seen a hell of a lot more than either of them combined. He could be gruff at times, but Allen knew it came from a good place.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Guy, stiff in his posture, looked from Foucher to Allen and back, completely ignoring the android at Allen’s heel. “That’s why you two had run out on training? I had hoped CyberLife was ignoring your calls.”

Allen pursed his lips at Guy. “You’re usually all for new technology and new equipment. What’s so different about this one?” Guy matched Allen’s eye contact, dwelling on the words to reply with.

“Look,” Foucher said, breaking the tension between the two. Guy focused on Foucher, ready to hear him out. “It’s here now. It’ll help us out, but only if we let it. The Captain’s taking the brunt of the work regarding the thing–pushing some of it onto me, of course–but it’s not going to affect anybody else’s workload in a negative way. Equipment, but not one you’re looking after.”

This was the main reason Allen chose Foucher to be his SiC. What they said in private was one thing, and they often didn’t see eye-to-eye on every issue they faced. In the end, the focus between the two of them was on the greater good: for the Team and beyond. Foucher was on Allen’s side, even if he had personal reservations about employing an android into their ranks, because he knew that the thing would be beneficial to SWAT and Detroit as a whole.

“It’s something to get used to, and something to treat with respect.” Allen offered, gesturing to Connor. “Something to learn how to work with. But we’ve accomplished things that are a lot more challenging than adding an android to our team.”

Guy thought on this for a moment, before taking a step towards Connor and offering his hand. “You’re on borrowed time. We’ll all mutiny if we have to.” A small smile played on his lips and he glanced at Allen, who felt a wave of relief. Two of them were going to try now, it seemed. Things were looking up for them.

“Delannois Guillaume,” Connor spoke with a French flourish once again, taking the older man’s hand and shaking it gently. “My name is Connor.” Foucher pressed his elbow into Allen once more, obviously finding the French accent funny, at least this time.

Guy let out a dry laugh, taking his hand back from the android. “The thing’s got a face scanner?” Allen nodded to his question, watching as Guy turned from them. “Call me Guy or I’m waging war on you and the Captain.” He held his hand up and gestured for them to follow.

“Guy. Got it.”

Connor didn’t need any instruction to follow Guy’s lead: he walked swiftly at his heel and left Allen and Foucher to follow after.

“Guy’s in.” Foucher mused. Allen was once again denied the luxury of eye-contact as Foucher smirked to himself. “The rest’ll be soon to follow. Looks like all that belly-aching of yours paid off.”

Allen took in a deep breath in reply, his eyes trained on the back of Connor’s head. “We’ll see if it’s paid off next time we’re on the field. And if there’s a mutiny…”

“I’m going down with you. Guy can run this place into the ground if that’s what he wants.” He knew they were just joking around, but Allen felt the intent within Foucher’s reply. Loyalty to a fault; that’s what Allen liked about him.

Guy led the lot of them to meet up with the remaining three members of their group: Anita and the siblings, Mina and Freya. Anita was their powerhouse, she had the strength the rest of them relied on, and functioned as their primary Breacher. Mina was short in stature but he made up for it in being one hell of a sniper, and they relied on him as their primary Observer, as well. His sister, Freya, worked as their Armorer, but she had the drive and skill to work as a sniper alongside her brother. Even though Guy was their Munitions Expert and Foucher their Operator on paper, they–alongside himself–held multifaceted roles. It was the downside of having such a small team, but it helped them mesh together and if they needed sheer numbers, they could always call in another precinct’s team. Altogether, they were a rag-tag team of operatives that varied in age, ethnicity and circumstance, but Allen wouldn’t have it any other way. Each of them held a different perspective with differing lifestories to back it, and that meant they had the potential to be ready for anything Detroit could throw at them.

It wasn’t really a question in Allen’s mind if the three ‘lower ranked’ members of their team would accept Connor. He was sure that he could bring in anyone off the streets and get their approval. All they needed to know was that their captain–maybe Foucher, too–was accepting the new recruit, and they would welcome them with open arms.

This included working alongside a machine, it seemed, as they hardly needed a nod from Allen before they were all ready to shake its hand. Mina seemed particularly interested in how it worked, but he was enthusiastic about anything. Allen felt reassured at the sight of his group of six, the overwhelming feeling of achieving something good for his team taking away any aching at his temple.

Chapter 2

As the days passed, everyone took a quick liking to Connor. It was refreshing to see a new team member be taken in so quickly by the group–but Allen had to keep reminding himself that Connor wasn’t just a prodigy with a gun; it was a machine that had been made specifically for killing. It wasn’t a “member of their Team”, but an asset they could use to their advantage. It shouldn’t be so difficult for Allen to pin down: just watching Connor during a training practice should be enough to solidify that it wasn’t human. The speeds at which it reacted to things was unimaginable, and the brutality the android could carry out, even without a gun in his hand, was overkill at the very least. If they needed someone dead–and quick–Connor would be the one for the job.

Its place within the team could be dumbed down to ‘Crisis Negotiator alongside marginal Backup’, Allen decided. While it was tempting to promote Connor to something higher, there were too many things to consider. The Team was being more than accommodating towards their new tool, but if it rose through the ranks too quickly it was sure to affect their positive outlook regarding it.

There was also the American Androids Act to follow, specifically prohibiting the use of guns. Sure, there was a gray area there for Military-Class androids, but there’d be a lot of paperwork involved, as well as a bid to prove it was absolutely required.

It was something they could look into later, maybe, but for now they would work on fitting the android into their team just as it was. Today marked another set of training exercises, and Allen was tempted to pit his men against the machine, just to show everyone what it could really do.

It was early, but Allen set up their training area with mock guns and padded armor. After calling his small group–Connor included–to train, he conspired to lay out his plans as clearly as he could. His eyes scanned over each of his team, making sure they were alert despite the early-morning hours. Foucher and Guy were always at-the-ready, even if Foucher had a laid-back attitude most of the time. Anita, a woman of large stature who was the bulk of their brawn, always took training seriously and today was no exception. The RK800 stood behind its human teammates, perhaps to show that it deemed them more important than itself. That was something Allen supposed he would have to rectify, but in due time.

The other two looked ready enough, but they were known for slacking during training. The siblings–Mina and Freya–were menaces when on the field, but refused to take training exercises all too seriously. They were both short, with Mina the shortest of the group and with plenty of fire built up within his small stature. Freya didn’t match him in pure muscle, but she held her own specialties. They weren’t Detroit natives like the rest of them, either, so they didn’t know the city quite as well, but Guy more than made up for that. As always, Allen made sure to plant himself directly in their view before commencing the training exercise.

“So, here’s how this is going to work. All of us,” Allen gestured towards the groups and then himself, denoting ‘humans’ with his movements, “will be going up against Connor. I want to see what we can do against an unstoppable force.”

Mina, always the first to react to anything Allen had to say, looked towards Connor and back. “We’re taking him out?”

Foucher was quick to correct Mina’s words, reminding him that Connor was an ‘it’.

“I think that Connor will make a good addition to our training regimens. In the future we can give it a role to play out, and we’ll easily have a realistic situation we can react to. Today, I want to play out something simple. It will be playing the role of a suspect we need alive.” He moved his eyes from Mina–acutely aware of him immediately shifting towards his sister and whispering–settling on the RK800 and its piercing brown eyes. “And it will attempt to escape our custody.”

Guy chuckled as Connor’s LED spun rapidly at the ‘order’. “This’ll be a piece of cake. Shouldn’t even take the whole crew.”

Allen stopped the smile from spreading on his lips, ignoring Guy’s cocky outburst. Allen knew it wouldn’t be that easy, and the uncertainty in Anita’s eyes showed that not everyone was on the same side as Guy. They’d all find out in a moment, it seemed.

The team suited up with their protective armor, which seemed overkill for a normal training exercise, but Allen wanted it just in case. He was sure Connor could control its strength, but he would rather be over-prepared than to suffer any kind of injury. He stopped Connor before they commenced the exercise, leaning in to give it direct orders. “Do not harm my team, do you understand?”

“Of course, Captain.” Connor’s LED didn’t spin, and Allen only assumed that meant it wasn’t new data that Connor had to write to his mission plan; that it was already obvious to the situation.

Allen nodded, keeping quiet eye contact with the RK800 before moving away. Guy attempted the first round, alone, and Connor aptly put him in his place. For the second round, Anita, Guy and Foucher attempted to wrangle the machine, ending with all of them tossed aside like dainty flowers in the wind. Guy looked irritated, while Anita and Foucher looked surprised and slightly pleased. He was sure Guy would come around, soon, and realize the meaning of their exercise was to prove Connor’s worth to the team.

“I want a piece of him.” Mina spoke up in an attempt to get one-on-one combat time with Connor, but that wasn’t how the exercise was going to go. At this point, the five of them attempted to stop an escaping Connor, only to be bulldozed to the side, unarmed or otherwise incapacitated.

Foucher stood up from the ground, panting in response to the wind being knocked out of him. He looked at Allen and let out a deep sigh before gesturing towards Connor, to which Allen understood his meaning. Foucher was calling in his Captain for assistance, although Allen was unsure if his addition would turn the tides in their favor.

Picking up a spare prop handgun, Allen made his way over to the group. Connor stood simply, awaiting the next exercise while straightening his suit jacket, making sure he looked as neat as he did before they started.

“This is impossible, Capt.” Foucher remarked, stretching his neck from side to side. “The thing’s too good, it always moves just right, before we even have a chance!”

“That’s the point.” Allen said plainly, unable to keep a straight face at Guy’s exaggeratedly rolled eyes. “This is what we’re bringing to the table. If we’re struggling against the machine, imagine what our next perp is going to go through.”

Foucher considered Allen’s words, which was more than he could ask for. They all readied themselves for the next onslaught, each one raising their fake handguns to Connor. Guy commanded Connor to put his hands up and follow them, which Connor obliged. They swarmed around Connor, but all it took was Foucher glancing away for a moment to spring Connor into action. It unarmed Foucher easily, and with blinding ease, tossed him to the ground.

One by one, Connor disarmed and removed the rest of his men from the situation. When Allen stepped forward, however, he was quick enough to block Connor’s first attempts to grab him. Allen was reacting before Connor started to move, attempting to bait it with his movements in an attempt to come out on top. It worked for a moment, especially with Freya and Foucher scrambling to their feet and grabbing at Connor from behind. For a moment, Allen had the thought that they had done it–that they had subdued the machine and could claim victory within their training exercise–but it seemed that Connor might have been holding back on them.

It was moving without pause, the LED switching from a pulsing blue to a sporadic yellow. Its eyes moved between the people in front of it, focusing on the empty space in between. Before Allen could even comprehend what it had done, his teammates were back on the ground. Connor swiftly turned to him, spinning on its heel and raising the prop handgun it had stolen from Foucher’s grasp.

“Bang!” Connor’s voice was as serious as always, and its brown eyes showed no emotion yet pierced through Allen’s soul in an unnerving manner. “You are dead, Captain.”

Silence fell over the group, with the only noise the hurried breaths of the tired team. Allen held Connor’s eyes, curious on what was driving the creeping of his skin. Was it just as simple as the stone-cold words from a machine without any concept of what ‘you’re dead’ means, or was there something more to it? Something sparkled within Connor’s eyes, something that Allen couldn’t wrap his head around.

Connor returned the prop to its side, pausing for a moment to hold Allen’s gaze, before turning away to place the object in its hand back on the table it originated from. Allen watched the back of its head as it retreated, being distracted only by Foucher’s hand on his shoulder.

“That was really something else.” Foucher said after a long sigh. Allen collected his thoughts by pushing them away to deal with later, only looking to Foucher once his hand was removed. “Although…”

“I didn’t ask for your reservations.” Allen watched as Foucher deliberately avoided his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s brutal. That’s the point.” Allen kept his eyes pointed on his SiC to drive his authority home–even if he knew Foucher wasn’t questioning it. When he felt content enough to look away, he averted his attention to the rest of his team. “That’s all for our exercise today. Good work.”

Allen meant to approach Connor after their exercise, but as he turned to do so, he stopped. Connor was standing off to the side, fidgeting with something within its hands. Light bounced off of the object and flickered Allen’s attention to it even further, and it took him a moment of staring to understand that it was a coin. The RK800 flicked it between open hands, rolled it on the tops of its fingers and back into its palm.

It was wholly a human action, and that’s what struck Allen and planted him so firmly in his tracks. He watched, almost mesmerized as the coin became a blur between his hands. It felt fitting, somehow, to watch the coin flicker between one home to the next, as Connor was on the brink of ‘tool’ and ‘team member’ within Allen’s mind. The indecisiveness of the actor controlling the coin and its final home seemed all too real to Connor’s situation. Allen was sure he was reading into it too closely, but one thing still stood out to him. The fidgeting was exactly what he had first characterized it: a human action that would be brought on by very human emotions, and for that alone he knew he needed to talk to it.

Upon approach, Connor closed its fist around the coin and slipped it into its pocket, as if nothing had happened. Allen was quick to command its eyes, searching for something in there that he couldn’t find. “What was that about?”

Connor furrowed its eyebrows and perfectly mimicked a quizzical look. It retrieved the coin from its hiding place, showing the shiny silver dollar to Allen. “Just a coin.” Simply spoken, yet the words meant nothing to Allen.

“You were fidgeting with it. Are you nervous?” It was always in Allen’s best interest to keep things as simple and to-the-point as he could, and this was no exception. He broke eye contact with the machine to focus on the pulsating, yellow light at its temple. Somewhere in the background, one of their phones rang, but Allen ignored the sound to the best of his ability.

“No…” Connor said slowly, drawing Allen’s eyes back to its unreadable brown ones. “I don’t feel emotions like that, Captain. This coin–” Connor looked down and pulled a trick off, flipping the coin up in the air and catching it on its fingertip, making the act of balancing it look easy. “–and what I’m doing is part of a calibration exercise.”

Allen’s eyes focused solely on the coin as it was balanced upon an unmoving finger. An advanced machine would surely have more advanced means of calibration, but if something simple like this was a workaround for an in-the-moment exercise, so be it. He would much rather Connor need a moment to play with a coin than to see it go into sleep mode during the middle of the action, training or not.

“Hey, Captain.” Foucher’s voice called from behind Allen. Even Connor seemed startled, and as Allen turned he heard the familiar metallic tapping of a coin that’s been dropped. Foucher was serious, however, and Allen knew what was happening before he could explain: “We’ve got a situation.”

Chapter 3

Foucher’s words sent the team running to get ready and get to the scene they were called to. He left it to his SiC to debrief them on what was going on, as he was the one with DPD planted within his earpiece. According to him, they were under fire from a suspect inside their home. It seemed that a welfare check had been called in, but upon arriving the DPD was met with gunshots. The individual was considered dangerous, but mentally unwell. They were to deescalate the situation without casualty.

It seemed simple enough, but Allen knew that suspects could always be unpredictable. They split their group between two SWAT vans: Guy, the siblings and Anita in one, and Allen, Foucher and their machine in the other. Allen watched Connor carefully on their way, feeling unsure if he made the right choice in bringing it along. The team was getting along well with it, and their exercise that morning was hopefully beneficial in them recognizing its worth. But, had Connor been a human, Allen would have required him to stay behind for a call like this. They hadn’t yet had the time to really mesh together, but in the end…if Connor had been a new gadget, there would be excitement regarding ‘a first real test’. The image of Connor's coin flipping between its hands replayed in Allen’s mind, and he couldn’t help but wonder exactly where it would end up landing: tool or team member? At this point, it was as if the coin was flickering midair, stuck in limbo between the two extremes.

When they arrived at the scene, it was obvious what had been meant by ‘mentally unwell’. The yells and cries that filled the air would have unsettled a much less experienced team. The two groups left their vans but used their sturdy doors as cover, watching the situation before deciding on a tactic. Each of them was suited up with their usual gear–Connor included–and earpieces made sure they could connect with each other over any chaos.

“Remember,” Foucher’s voice rang out through their earpieces, “we’re to take the suspect into custody, or assist DPD in doing so.”

Although they had arrived within the same van, Foucher had taken to the door opposite of Allen and Connor, so he should have been close enough to hear. But the yells of the suspect were overbearing within the air.

For a moment, Allen was worried about Connor’s mental state. He looked it over carefully as he readied his gun, hoping that the mad ravings of a lunatic wouldn’t get to him, given his newfound place on the team. It took the flashing blue of its LED, shining off of the van’s interior, for Allen to remember that Connor was made for this, and had no mental capacity to worry about.

With a steadying breath, Allen focused on the task at hand. He trained his gun on the crying man, the weapon within his hands merely a tool to aid in intimidation. As Allen touched the earpiece and opened his mouth to express their orders, DPD moved without warning. Two of the officers, perhaps tired of waiting for SWAT, attempted to get closer to the house in question, which sent the suspect into a frenzy. Gunshots rang out, and Allen wasn’t sure his command of ‘don’t shoot’ was easily heard by his team.

The earpiece screeched with feedback in Allen’s ear but he couldn’t rip it out, not with his attention needed on the suspect. The gunshots were still ringing out and DPD was frantically trying to pull itself together. The feedback was over as quickly as it had started, and a far-too-frantic Mina spoke as soon as he could.

“Foucher’s down! Awaiting orders, Captain.”

Connor quickly looked at Allen, something fiercely serious evident in its eyes. As Allen could move his hand up to respond to his team, Connor moved. In a blur, it removed the handgun from Allen’s side and moved its shoulder into the oncoming fire. “Connor!” Without realizing he was broadcasting his words to the whole team, Allen spoke with the tone of an adult chastising a little kid. The moment warranted much more than that, but it was all he could muster amid the chaos.

As blue blood erupted from a shot that nicked Connor’s arm, it shot back in return. The air stood deathly still, the cries and gunshots suddenly missing and therefore blanketing the scene with a strong sense of unease. Allen removed his finger from the earpiece’s button, grabbing Connor’s shoulder and ignoring the blue liquid that pooled on his glove.

“What the fuck was that?” Allen grabbed the handgun with his other hand, quick to cover up Connor’s gross mistake. “We had strict orders, or did you not realize?” The question was rhetorical at best, plain aggressive at worst. Allen was seething with the thought of losing his newfound tool over a stupid decision on its part.

Connor attempted to move away, but Allen kept a firm hand on its shoulder. He knew that the RK800 could easily push him to the side, but was keen on testing it within the moment. Connor looked back behind them, towards the SWAT van, before focusing on Allen.

“They had shot Foucher.”

The sudden noise he had heard, blasting from his earpiece, must have been a feedback response of some sort. The situation suddenly came together, making sense as Connor’s actions fell into place. The American Androids Act was still at play here, though, and any evidence of Connor being the one handling that handgun would mean decommissioning.

Something within Connor’s eyes made Allen feel like it understood the graveness of the situation, as something akin to fear was stirring inside of it. Perhaps having eyes of glass were a bane to hiding one’s true emotions, Allen thought, the impossibility of those emotions existing lost on him within the moment.

He walked away without a word, Connor’s eyes lingering worriedly on him as he did so. It would be fine, he assured it mentally. There was no way in Allen’s mind that he would throw a team member under the bus; tool or otherwise.

Foucher was indeed shot, and the paramedics made it extremely clear that his outlook wasn’t good. Allen made sure that Guy had that situation handled and that the rest of the team got themselves back to the base. For now, Allen had to debrief with DPD, so he entrusted Foucher’s care to the paramedics and to Guy. He told Connor to get in the empty SWAT van and to do something about his wound, which Connor seemed to oblige.

Allen had a long talk with DPD, completely leaving Connor out of the situation. He took the blame for the sharp shot, saying that he wasn’t going to be called to a scene and potentially lose one of his men and allow the perpetrator to enjoy their freedom. It was harsh, and perhaps not the complete truth, but it seemed to strike a chord with the group from DPD. They announced his dismissal, but warned him that he’d be receiving a bit of paperwork from them to fill out and send back, with the stipulation that what they did next was up to their captain.

As he said his parting words with the men from DPD, Allen’s mind was allowed to wander and to question himself. A sharp pain trickled from his temple as he thought about the ramifications of what he was doing by covering for their machine. Connor acted directly outside its programming by taking a gun that wasn’t assigned to it, and taking a human’s life with it. That was cause enough for concern, and if it was a sign of an instability within its software, ignoring it could lead to even worse issues on the horizon.

With a twinge behind his eyes and far too much weight upon his shoulders, Allen joined Connor within their lone SWAT van. He sat behind the wheel, tilting his head back on his headrest and closing his eyes against the offending flashing lights around them.

Silence engulfed them, and Allen enjoyed the few moments of peace he could obtain at Connor’s side. No snide remarks, no worried words. Just pure silence, fraught with thick emotion yet silence nonetheless.

Allen shifted and, working against the pain in his forehead, retrieved his cellphone from within the console of the van. He flicked the earpiece away from him before dialing a number his phone knew too well, quick to formulate his thoughts as the line rang.

An android, most likely, answered his call. Allen aired his desire to bring Connor in for repairs following a gunshot wound, and while he was prepared to hear the outrageous price for a repair or a diagnostic, none came. Instead, he was met with the information that CyberLife, having retired the RK800 model, would no longer accept Connor in for repairs.

Allen pushed back, but was promised that the RK800 in his possession would be sent a list of approved third-party stores that would be able to conduct repairs. Although, he was warned, if the damage to Connor was too grand it was likely that he would end up scrapped.

He was bid a good day by the all-too-human voice, and he huffed a sigh as he looked at Connor. Its shoulder wasn’t injured too badly, but he knew nothing about how these things handled injuries. What exactly would be ‘too grand’ in terms of damage? His eyes focused on Connor’s, and he knew he wasn’t mistaking the swirling emotions that clouded those brown eyes.

“What do we need to do to get that healed?”

Connor looked down, at nothing in particular. “The damage is surface level. I should be able to heal it myself, if given the time.”

Allen turned the key in the ignition, the movement and metaphorical pressure forcing the air from his lungs. He drove back in relative silence, his own sighs breaking the tranquil anxiousness that suffocated them. It felt like it was the calm before the storm, but Allen wasn’t sure what sort of storm he was expecting. He was hopeful he wouldn’t lose his job over this, but who could tell? It was a grave enough situation, and it might warrant it. His stomach fell as he thought about Foucher and how bad of shape he was in, but he had to push those thoughts aside for the time being.

For now, he had to get back to their base and finish the countless pages of paperwork that he knew waited for him. He thought about applying for an exception that would allow Connor to carry a gun, but that might seem too suspicious, given the current circumstances.

His mind ran in circles as he drove, completely ignorant to the android eyes that were forcefully trained upon him. Dealing with Connor was going to take a backseat to handling Foucher’s injuries, which was unfortunately not as pressing as his paperwork. He’d take the rest of the day to get things sorted out with DPD, and only then would he be allowed to focus his attention on his injured team member.

Chapter 4

Guy arrived back at their base, much later that day, in a foul state. He was always incapable of keeping his sharp words to himself, and Allen’s temples ached as his raised voice could easily be heard echoing throughout their halls. Allen had been able to submit the accident report surrounding Foucher, as well as get a fantastic head start on the novel DPD expected him to write for them. He suspected that he wouldn’t have the focus necessary to continue, given the current circumstances, and pulled himself away from his desk and into the mess that was their crumbling team.

It’s funny to think that their team would be at each other’s throats over the absence of one man, but Allen was sure that it would happen no matter who it was. They were so tightly knit at this point, they were practically family and any severe injury or illness would pick at their positivity.

Guy was speaking negatively about Foucher’s odds, however, and that didn’t sit right with any of the team; Allen and–so it seemed, Connor–included. It stood with a pained look plastered on its face, watching as Guy ranted about Foucher’s waning odds of survival to an equally hot-headed Mina.

Allen moved between the two, and while he was positive they wouldn’t devolve to throwing fists at one another, the stress of the situation might make them act in unusual ways. It was better to be safe than sorry. He focused his eyes on Guy’s, asking to be caught up to speed without a word crossing his lips.

Even when picking apart what was Guy’s pessimism and what was categorical truth about Foucher’s situation, it didn’t seem very good. The wound was located on his jaw, and the shattered bone was causing complications, not to mention the severed arteries. It seemed like he’d be lucky to survive, and Guy’s time in the Emergency Room with Foucher had been wrought with moments of ‘almost’ losing him. Visiting wasn’t recommended until–or as Guy put it: if–Foucher achieved a level of stability.

Tensions were high, but there was nothing they could do about it. The next week came and went at a trudging pace, with Allen’s days filled with paperwork and the odd call-to-action they were all used to. It hurt, but Allen was attempting to come to terms with Foucher’s absence, because if things didn’t look up for him they would be forced to move on, regardless of the loss.

Connor healed his arm faster than Allen was expecting, and it slowly took Foucher’s place at Allen’s side. It became apparent that Connor wasn’t keen on replacing Foucher, but it stood in for him quite well, sass included.

When questioned in private over why he had taken Allen’s gun, Connor replied coldly and without emotion. “I was mitigating the loss in the situation. Had they continued to shoot, more officers might have been harmed or lost their lives.” Followed by a very pointed: “The team comes first, as you said.”

Those were words that Allen agreed on, and perhaps ones that he had mentioned to Connor in the past. But there was a very unsettling twisting of circumstance that Connor applied to them; Allen wasn’t sure if he should be worried or impressed, if he was being honest. The team coming first shouldn’t nullify orders and definitely not law, and Allen made sure Connor understood not to do it again. Although he was sure Connor would act against those orders for ‘the sake of the greater good of the team’, if it deemed it necessary.

He asked himself if he could really be upset with Connor’s choices, given the circumstances, and he found that the answer was a simple ‘no’. Allen would have done the same, had a few moments passed and realization of the dire situation sunk in, and that was the primary reason he felt alright with covering Connor’s ass.

Questions plagued Allen no matter where he was: in their base, the car, his apartment, his dreams…his mind kept racing at possibilities of his machine’s betrayal. It shouldn’t be thinking for itself, and yet here it was, choosing which order should be of the utmost priority. What would happen if it deemed that the team’s safety wasn’t the most important factor, or if it straight up turned against them? There was a non-zero possibility that Allen was training a very dangerous adversary, one that was potentially unstoppable before he even got his hands on it.

But when Allen looked at Connor, he saw a quizzical newbie that was eager to learn the ins-and-outs of teamwork. It worked well against their shortcomings, something that shined brightly during training sessions, and played off of their talents with optimal ease. And yet, Allen noticed a deep-seated anxiety that reared its ugly head whenever Connor was idle: the flicking to and fro of a sparkling coin. Anxiety was the wrong term for it, as Connor had dubbed it ‘calibration’, but the movements were just as jerky as they were deliberate, and Allen knew a self-soothing action when he saw one. Watching the coin flicker between its hands became a comfort to Allen, even, as visualizing the teetering of Connor’s classification within the team made it all seem like less of a problem.

Eventually, about a week and a half after the primary incident, Allen received a call that Foucher was stable enough for visitation. If he was being honest, receiving calls from the hospital always set him on-edge, as each time he had to steel himself for ‘The Call’, the one that would remove Foucher from their lives for good. But, with this new news, Allen and the rest of the group were all feeling much more positive about the situation.

Guy and Anita ended up going immediately, skipping out on the morning’s training to be his first visitors. Sometime in the afternoon, the siblings switched them out and stayed until the late evening. Allen was still pondering some forms at the hour–doing work that Foucher no doubt would have taken care of for him.

He received the call from Freya as he submitted a form for a change in Connor’s classification: they had decided upon ‘tactical robot’ when Connor had first joined them, but given the circumstances with Foucher, Allen decided to formally add ‘protective gear’. He was sure Foucher wouldn’t mind, and assumed he would actually find it funny.

Freya’s call lamented the fact that they were leaving for the night, with the subtle request that Allen ‘take over the shift’. Of course, he wasn’t about to decline. She made it sound like he wasn’t awake, but that it was comforting being in his presence, even if he wasn’t conscious for it. Allen bid the siblings to get some rest, and promised he was headed to Foucher’s hospital room right away.

Connor stopped him, however, as he went to leave. “Captain, are you done for the day?”

“It’s my turn to watch over Foucher, I’ll finish everything up…sometime.” He heaved a sigh with his words, knowing that his paperwork was never-ending. Connor nodded, yet followed Allen to the door. He exchanged a look with it, confused eyes meeting determined ones. “Do you need something from me?”

“No.” Connor’s words were quick to pierce Allen’s temple. Why was everyone so keen on causing him a headache?

“Then why are you following me?”

Connor opened its mouth, then paused before answering. “Well, I’m going with you, Captain.” It spoke simply, as if Allen should have surmised the information from the beginning.

He shifted his weight and frowned at Connor. “No,” He said slowly, “you’re staying here and going into stand-by mode. Like you do every night.”

Connor’s eyes darted from his, momentarily staring into the distance before returning just as quickly as they had left. A yellow light spun at its temple as it looked away, betraying the frantic creation of its following words: “I must accompany you, though, for protection.”

Allen kept its gaze, speaking plainly against its words. “I’m more than capable of protecting myself.” The absurdity of the words caught up with him, however, and he tacked on a question to his fully formed thought. “What would you even be protecting me from? The doctors? There’s no danger where I’m going.”

Connor paused and Allen found humor in the pulsating yellow at its temple. “You’re emotional. If something bad happened while you were there, I wouldn’t trust you to make the best decisions.”

Its words sparked anger within Allen, causing his retort to be sharp in nature. “I think you’re forgetting your place within the team. I might treat you all as equals, but at the end of the day? I’m above you.” His reaction might be fueled by the aforementioned emotions Connor so kindly pointed out, but there was something about having a subordinate machine speak of his emotions that rubbed Allen the wrong way. “It would be a problem if I wasn’t emotional or shaken up about what happened. We’re a team and I’ll always be emotional when something happens to one of my own. I’m sure you can’t understand that, though.”

The jab at Connor’s expense seemed to hit home, and Allen immediately regretted allowing the words to spring forth from his lips. Connor averted its eyes in what Allen could only assume was an android version of distress. Allen was never good against what most would call ‘puppy-dog eyes’, and it seemed they swayed him even now. He heaved a sigh and threw his hands up.

“Fine. You’re coming with me.” As Allen spoke, Connor’s face unmistakably lit up. “But none of this seeing me as a ‘helpless damsel’ bullshit.” He pointed a sturdy finger at Connor, who straightened its back and focused its sparkling brown eyes on his. “You’ll go with me and make sure the doctors aren’t talking bullshit. I want to know what’s really going on.” There was an awkward pause, and Allen couldn’t help but furrow his eyebrows. “You can do that, right?”

“Oh!” Connor, who was taken by surprise for a moment, quickly nodded in delayed response. “Of course I can. Yes, Captain.”

There were times when Allen felt like he was a wayward dog walker, wrangling his group of misfits that were determined to tangle him up in their leads. He had hoped that the android would be a bit less human in that regard, but Allen found that Connor was just as prone to causing him headaches as the rest of his team was.

They drove to the hospital in relative silence, with Connor’s coin making a brief appearance. It disappeared the moment that Allen heaved a grand sigh, and although it hadn’t been solely directed at the RK800 in his passenger seat, he wasn’t about to complain about the ample silence. When they arrived, Allen led the way inside, but Connor didn’t follow. He turned, halfway in the automatic door, and watched as Connor squatted down to the ground and held his hand out to a stray crow. The bird ignored Connor, eventually flying away despite the sad look it mustered.

Allen waited patiently, feeling something serene about the whole scene: Connor’s silhouette against the night sky, cooing at a bird in a very human way. Was all of this just an act, Allen wondered, some empathy program to garner a personal reaction from the humans around it? Or was this as real of an emotion as a programmed, artificial being could have?

Allen pushed the thoughts from his mind and made his way up to Foucher’s room, Connor in tow. They arrived and, although the situation was dark and grim, there was a certain peacefulness that curtained Foucher’s room. He didn’t look good by any stretch of the imagination: copious tubes and wires were attached to him and bandages covered his face. Allen tried not to look too closely, some part of him not wanting to remember Foucher in this way, if something bad ended up happening.

They sat in his room as the night crawled on outside the hospital, Allen feeling detached from time as his mind wandered into dangerous territory. He didn’t focus on his running thoughts, nor on the situation before him as much as possible, instead opting to tilt his head towards the ceiling with an innate focus on keeping his headache at bay. The more he stressed about these what-if’s, the more likely it was for the pain to take root within his temples. There were noises abound within the room, mechanical noises accompanied by rhythmic beeping, but they weren’t jarring and instead faded into background noise.

A very familiar noise rang out next to him, and at this point Allen welcomed the flickering of Conner’s coin. He opened his eyes and tilted his head towards the noise ever so slightly, very aware that the android knew of his movements no matter how small they were. But they accomplished his goal of not startling Connor into thinking he was upset with the broken silence, so he counted it as a win.

With heavy eyes, Allen focused on the coin within the dimly lit room. He hadn’t intended to, but he repeated the words ‘tool’ and ‘team member’ each time it traveled from hand to hand. It felt silly once he realized he was doing it, making him feel like he was a child picking the petals off of a flower. Allen was eager to see where it might end up, even as his vision blurred and the coin became a gray streak against a blurry backdrop. As his eyelids drifted into his vision, he felt the peaceful curtain that covered the room engulf him. The uncertainty, the fear, everything seemed to float weightlessly from his shoulders; even the trickle of pain behind his eyes completely vanished. It no longer mattered to him in which hand the coin ended up, because in the end the coin was on his side. No matter what, it seemed, he could rely on it being there.

“Sleep, Captain. I’ll watch him.”

The words were kind and gentle, not at all robotic nor cold. Allen allowed his eyes to fully close at Connor’s words, a sigh escaping his lips as weariness took over. The sound of the metal flicking never ceased, and Allen focused everything he could on it. Somehow, with that noise ringing through his mind, he felt safe. Safe in the moment; safe in the presence of his teammate, one who he could trust to do what needed to be done, no matter the circumstances.

After that first night, their visits would lower in frequency. Worrying over his sleeping form was only wearing them out more, and it wasn’t helping Foucher at all. Allen wasn’t sure where they stood, regarding Foucher’s health and ability to work, but that was something he would only talk to him about when he brought it up. He was eager to have him back, if possible, but if this situation was career-ending for Foucher, he would be there for him however he could.

The group still had work to attend to, however, so their focus had to be forced onto work and not on their hospitalized friend and coworker. Allen worked carefully with them to mitigate any future mishaps that might arise given their missing man. The next few weeks were kind to them, however, without anything too dangerous being thrown their way.

The worst thing that transpired between the crew in this time regarded Connor losing his coin to Allen’s grasp, after the failure of whatever ‘recalibration exercise’ it had been attempting to perform in secret during an end of day, all-hands meeting. Allen took it with irritation in the heat of the moment, and it sat nestled within his pocket for safe-keeping. He planned to keep it from Connor for a good part of the next day, and he knew he was treating it like a child, but if it couldn’t handle a bit of teasing it had no place within their team.

He wasn’t expecting to receive an urgent call from DPD, however, and this put returning Connor’s prized object on hold until they were safely back home.

Chapter 5

It was the perfect time for the team to be called in for a dangerous hostage situation: when they were one man short and struggling to keep themselves together. Maybe it was just Allen that was struggling, in the end, and while he would keep a brave face on for the greater good, he was riddled with anxiety at the absence of his SiC.

Guy stepped up to fill the gap in rank, as Allen could always trust him to, but he wasn’t as fast in his thoughts as Foucher had been. Allen just hoped that they wouldn’t suffer another casualty just because their team was one member short.

They all suited up and headed to the address DPD provided. This was a hostage situation, and while they didn’t know the details it seemed like it was a robbery gone wrong. The two perps had the lone night-shift worker and a few customers pulled up onto the roof, threatening to kill them if their demands weren’t met.

This hadn’t been planned, it seemed. The men had guns, but it was likely that the situation had escalated from a simple plan of ‘take the cash and run’ to the current hostage situation out of fear. They were probably stressed and at their limits, and it would take the best negotiator in Detroit to get those civilians out of the situation unscathed.

It was good for them that SWAT had Connor on their team. Without it, Allen wouldn’t be sure what might transpire, but he knew that the android would find a way to save the innocent.

The roof was only a few floors up, much different from the high-rise situation in which he had first met the RK800. The issue here wasn’t a potential jump, although it seemed better on paper, a threat was still a threat and lives were still at stake. Allen hoped these petty thieves were too cowardly to actually shoot one of their hostages, but he learned a long time ago that anything could happen in the heat of the moment.

As they filed out of the vehicle and into the building, Allen caught a few glances from Connor. At first, Allen assumed nervousness, but of course their Negotiator couldn’t feel those sorts of things; so pseudo-nervousness it was. It wasn’t until they were at the top of the staircase and staring at the rooftop door that Allen noticed why Connor kept glancing over at him: it was its LED.

The damn thing, usually brightly shimmering at its temple, was nowhere to be seen. Allen caught Connor’s eye as it reached for the door, but he didn’t have time to focus on the look of guilt shining within Connor’s eyes. Allen reached out and grabbed Connor’s arm, pulling it away from the door and close enough to speak to in an angry whisper.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Connor kept Allen’s gaze as it was chastised, whatever guilt Allen thought he imagined far from its eyes.

“...Captain, I don’t know–”

“Let me get this straight right now: you aren’t going to try to bullshit me. What’s going on with your LED?” Allen didn’t like the way Connor attempted to avoid his eyes once the question was fully voiced.

“There’s a high probability the men will react badly if they know I’m an android, Captain. …this is the best way to negotiate, this time.” Connor seemed anxious or stressed, but Allen was sure he was reading into it too much. If Allen squinted, he could make out the circle of the LED underneath Connor’s synthetic skin, but only because he was so close.

“That’s against protocol.”

“I’m well aware, Captain.”

With that simple sentence, something clicked within Allen. He didn’t want to think of the complications of Connor’s words and actions, but he considered that, maybe, he understood what was going on. Whatever that was, he wasn’t going to voice it nor think too hard about it. All that mattered was what Connor’s priorities were, at least right now.

He let Connor go and watched it carefully as it stepped through the door. Guy pressed his shoulder against Allen as he stepped forward and kept the door ajar.

“What’s going on?”

Allen held his gun up and trained it on the assailants that stood before Connor, pursing his lips to Guy’s question. “Nothing.” He could feel Guy’s judgmental stare upon him, but he dared not look away from his mark. “Now’s not the time.”

“Fuck,” Guy sighed and took his position, raising his gun to ready himself, his voice muffled by his helmet.

“Don’t come any closer!!” A man’s voice rang out, shaking with fear and adrenaline.

Connor stepped out onto the roof, its hands in the air. “This isn’t what you wanted. You came here for money, didn’t you?” Its voice was commanding, authoritative, yet soft and trustworthy. Android manipulation at its finest; exactly what Allen had needed it for. “This has gone too far. Let the hostages go before you do something you’ll regret.” Emotion hung heavy on its words, but Allen wasn’t sure if it was enough to sway their perps.

The following negotiation was rough, with emotional yells combating Connor’s steady voice. In the end, Connor managed to get the hostages released and the two robbers disarmed as they sobbed their apologies. Freya escorted the citizens down the staircase and out to safety. With them safe, the only thing left to do was to get DPD up here to arrest the bastards.

Allen and Guy slowly stepped out onto the rooftop, letting the door close behind them, the air much colder than it had been when they first showed up. Even with the scattered sobs and flashing police lights, the night was still and peaceful. If it wasn’t for the clouds, it might’ve been a nice night to stargaze.

Connor looked at them and smiled gently, holding its thumb up in an affirmative gesture. Allen found himself smiling back, giving Connor a few nods of reassurance. Yeah, it had done good. It wasn’t a situation Allen thought his team could have handled so well without it, and this was just another piece of proof that Connor was an invaluable asset to the Team.

The air changed, however, and the situation changed with it. Allen had only looked away from Connor for a moment, to address the oncoming press helicopter that was far too loud–he swore he would get whoever was in that thing fired at the sheer audacity of bringing a helicopter into a hostage situation. If the civilians had still been involved, they would have likely been shot in pure panic. How many fucking times was he going to have to tell the press to stay far away from sensitive cases like this? He–

“Cap–” Connor’s voice rang out in panic. The two of them were quick to raise their guns in Connor’s direction. Their two perpetrators stood, one with a gun trained on him and Guy, with the other holding a gun to Connor’s temple.

Connor seemed scared, and at this moment Allen couldn’t look at Connor and see anything but a human and one that was his team member. He was sitting on his knees, pushed down by the man behind him and held there by a fistfull of hair.

He had superior reflexes, so what was he doing in such a compromising situation, Allen wondered. How could he have let the perps get the upper hand?

“If you shoot one of my men, I’ll make sure the rest of your life is a miserable fucking hell,” Allen seethed, knowing the words weren’t the right ones to say, but there was a reason Connor was their negotiator and not him.

Connor took a shaky breath in, fully reacting to the gun that was jerked against him. There was panic in his eyes, no doubt about it. Allen forced the implications from his mind as Connor spoke. “N–no, please…” The whispered pleas were largely ignored by the assailants.

“Our lives are over, no matter what!” The man whose gun was pointed straight at Allen gestured with the weapon as he spoke. “Might as well bring one of you down with us!”

Footsteps from behind the rooftop door signaled the arrival of DPD, ready to waltz in and ruin the delicate situation. Allen didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes off the men in front of him, but he spoke loudly so that DPD understood what was going on. “Stay back, we’re under fire!”

His raised words caused Connor’s assailant to grip and pull his hair tighter. At first Allen thought it was a trick of the light, but on closer inspection it seemed that Connor was crying. His tears caught the flickering police lights, falling from tightly closed eyes.

“No, please,” he repeated, fear dripping alongside his tears, “they won’t fix me. I don’t want to die, please, I don’t want to die!”

It was hard enough to watch a team member in this position, but it was some new kind of hell to know their android was saying those words. Allen was sure this was another anomaly, even if Connor was prepared to play it off as a negotiation tactic when all this was over.

Shimmering memories played in Allen’s head: he reflected momentarily on the quickness in which Connor had acted to save Foucher. He had acted abnormally there, as well, going against his protocol. Maybe Allen could take a page from his book and ignore reason and duty, just for the sake of saving his Negotiator’s life.

The man at Connor’s back twitched too firmly for his comfort, and Allen pulled the trigger. As the man fell backwards with the force of the shot, Connor shifted and grabbed his gun, yanking it out of his hand and using it to shoot his accomplice. A third shot rang out as the second suspect pulled his trigger before Connor’s shot connected with his temple. The third shot thankfully didn’t collide with anybody.

Allen sniffed as the smell of blood lingered in the air around them. He dropped his gun to his side, taking a few wide strides towards Connor. He was in an absolute state, his eyes still wide with fear playing within them, and his hair completely askew from the perp’s grip. Allen reached his hand down to Connor, who shifted his face to the side to avoid any semblance of eye contact.

Connor reached his hand up to Allen, handing him the gun.

He paused for a moment before taking it roughly to eject the magazine from it and toss both components to the side. Allen reached his hand out again, prepared to stand there, silent and still, until Connor took it. After a moment he did, opening his mouth in a shaky apology that Allen wasn’t keen on hearing.

“You’re alright.” Allen pulled Connor to his feet, clamping his hand against the armor on the side of Connor’s arm. “Pull yourself together or we’ll get questions we don’t want to answer. We shot them. Not you.” He lowered his voice as to keep the words secret between the two of them.

Connor’s eyes widened in surprise, before he did as Allen told him too and calmed himself down. He quickly straightened himself, taking on the air of the android Allen knew him as. With the adrenaline no longer coursing through his veins, Allen’s temple was starting to ache. He sharply nodded at Connor before turning to Guy.

He trusted Guy with his life, but he wasn’t sure if he trusted Guy with what had transpired here. He knew that Foucher had his back, but Guy might put loyalty to protocol over loyalty to his Team Leader. As they approached, Guy turned on his heel and opened the rooftop door to collect the DPD officers.

“Did my best to keep them alive. They were threatening to shoot, so we took care of them.” Allen nodded his head in Guy’s direction before pressing his hand on Connor’s back, pushing him towards the stairwell. “Negotiator got the hostages free just fine, but that damn news copter spooked the bastards.” Allen took in a shallow breath, eyeing the cop in charge of the situation. “They’ll be lucky if I don’t show up to the station and chew them out, myself.”

Guy placed his hand on Allen’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “We’re done here.”

Allen glanced at him, met with his own face in the reflection from his helmet. He nodded, and Guy nodded back. “Send whatever paperwork my way. I’ll get to it tomorrow.” Allen regarded the DPD officers before passing them, taking the steps two at a time with Guy close on his heel.

“We’re not talking about this?” Guy’s muffled voice was stern yet barely audible over their echoing footsteps.

“Not If I don’t have to.”

To Allen’s surprise, that seemed to work. He was sure Guy wasn’t satisfied, but he would allow him to brood in silence. They left the building, the air outside noticeably heavy and cold: a harbinger of the upcoming winter. The ambulance holding the hostages had already departed, but cop cars and their obnoxious lights still remained. The siblings and Anita were already in the car, ready to debrief and head back to their base. Connor was standing halfway between the building and the car, looking at Allen and awaiting instructions.

“I need to have a talk with our Negotiator,” Allen said, leaning into Guy. “Can you…?”

“I’ll get the team home.” Guy moved away quickly, the tone in his voice an unhappy one. He knew Guy wasn’t angry about being asked to do something, it was the situation as a whole that was bothering him. He just hoped he would stay quiet about the details, for now.

“Connor, call a taxi for us.” Allen waved to his group as they drove away, Mina sticking his gloved hand out the window and yelling a ‘goodnight’ into the quiet night.

“Understood.”

They waited for the taxi in silence, Allen not trusting the few DPD members that stood around to not have prying ears. His breath caught in the air, puffs of white that twirled in the gentle wind. When the taxi showed, Allen gestured for Connor to get in first. He sat next to him, seeking the intimacy for the serious talk that his temples begged him not to get into tonight.

There was a pause as the taxi started to drive, as Allen fitted the thoughts in his head into words to speak aloud.

“Are you going to turn your LED back on.” It wasn’t a question that Allen asked, but a simple statement. Connor stared forward, his face unchanging.

“I only hid it for the negotiation.” The reply Connor offered was half-hearted and meaningless. The issue was that he hid it in the first place, regardless of the reason, but Allen had to choose his battles wisely. He went silent, curious to see how Connor would handle the atmosphere: if something about the hostage situation had changed him fundamentally, or if this was something that had been a long time coming.

He watched as Connor sat still for a moment, before moving to search a pocket of his. He didn’t find what he was looking for, it seemed, so he placed his empty hands back down on his lap. There would be no coin to play with this time, as it was still in Allen’s possession. Connor stared forward, the pursing of his lips giving the air of a person that was uncomfortable.

Allen leaned his head back on his seat, closed his eyes and thought. All things considered, if he was understanding the situation correctly, he should be sending him back to CyberLife for some sort of update or repair. Connor wasn’t acting right, but a very loud part of Allen claimed that it was his duty to hide what was going on, for the Team’s sake as well as Connor’s. Still, he was curious at what Connor had to say about the situation, how he might react to going in for a repair.

“Maybe there’s something off about you.” He turned his head to look at Connor, scrutinizing every part of his profile. “Maybe I should give CyberLife a call.”

Connor paused, choosing his words extremely carefully. “If you…deem it necessary. Although I do think it’ll be distracting from our time as a team…” Connor glanced to meet Allen’s eye before staring forward again. “My diagnostics say that I’m working perfectly fine.”

Allen rolled his head on the headrest, looking back up to the roof of the car. “You cried, Connor. That’s more than abnormal.”

Connor was silent, but Allen thought he had already made up his mind. Keep what happened out of the paperwork, and keep CyberLife’s nose out of their business. “Why’d you let them grab you?”

Connor shifted in his seat beside Allen, letting out a sigh. “I was worried. There was a high probability that the other one would shoot either of you if I moved against them. I would have much preferred my death over yours or Guy’s, Captain.”

Allen nodded, unmoving otherwise. They spent the rest of the drive in an awkward silence, but Allen needed it to collect his thoughts. The whole time, the coin in his pocket burned against his thigh, itching to get back to its owner just as badly as its owner wished to have it.

They arrived and Allen stopped Connor after they stepped out of the taxi and into the cold night air. They stood before the building they called their home–Allen supposed that it was actually Connor’s home, as this was where he went on standby each night. The stars overhead were shining in the late night sky, although light pollution from the city made it hard to recognize most of them. Snow hadn’t fallen yet, but Allen’s bones could feel winter quick on his heels.

“Connor, you’re a part of this team.” Allen felt like he was stating the obvious, but he knew it had to be said aloud, especially with Connor’s current designation of ‘protective gear’ within their paperwork. “And I want to trust you to tell me if something’s wrong.” He gripped Connor’s arm, trying to dull the look of fear he recognized on Connor’s face. “Is there any deeper meaning for what happened today?”

Connor was uncomfortable with the question, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I just wanted to protect you two and–and if you mean the crying–if I get too damaged they’ll scrap me. I’m an ‘outdated’ unit to them. It would…hurt the Team greatly if I were to be compromised.”

Allen nodded, removing his hand from Connor’s arm. “Your life, if that’s what you’d like to call it, is just as precious as the rest of ours.” He met eyes with Connor and fought to keep the contact. “I’ve always thought this, although not in those exact words.”

“...thank you, Captain.” As Connor replied, Allen realized that only his breath made small clouds in the air before them. Everything about Connor: the way he was speaking and holding himself, the cold breath he huffed out–they all pointed to Connor’s inhumanity. But there was something more than that, something lifelike within his eyes, his words and his actions that resonated with Allen. Was he falling for a trick? Maybe.

Allen still wasn’t quite ready to have these thoughts, though. He procured the coin from his pocket before holding it out to Connor. “I’m sure this would help you. Recalibration, right?” Connor didn’t move right away, but Allen noticed how his eyes darted towards it. He held it calmly within his palm, waiting for Connor to take it like a cornered animal might take a bit of food.

When Connor finally reached, he was timid and careful. “I don’t deserve this.” His eyes snapped up to Allen’s, fear and hurt playing upon his expression. Connor took his hand away quickly, tucking his elbow to his side.

Allen sighed, holding the coin out between his finger and thumb. “I’m telling you that you do. Look, Connor, you’re a damn good asset to the team, but I need you to be focused. If this is how you need to do that, go ahead.” Connor looked down at the coin, reaching his hand to take it but stopping halfway. “You’re one of my men. I’m not about to give up on you.”

Art by telizere

He was begging Connor to understand the implications of his words: that he wasn’t about to call CyberLife and let them know that their Negotiator has shown some semblance of feelings. Guy might, Allen wasn’t sure about that yet, but if push came to shove he was ready to fight for Connor a second time, just like he would fight for any part of his crew.

Connor finally took the coin from Allen’s hand, nodding silently as he pursed his lips. He looked ready to cry again, Allen thought, and he had to make sure to nip that before it blossomed any further.

“Any paperwork from DPD?” He shifted his stance and relaxed his shoulders, glad to leave the realm of a serious, Team-destroying talk for a moment.

“Not yet, no.” Connor passed the coin between his hands, the sound somewhat refreshing to Allen’s usually sensitive ears.

“Good. I’m going to talk with our group and then head out to see Foucher.”

Connor smiled, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards at Allen’s words. “Perfect, I’ll go with you. …just to make sure the doctor’s are taking care of him.”

Allen huffed a laugh, nodding to Connor as they turned towards their building. The coin was swiftly hidden within one of Connor’s pockets, no doubt still acting as an item of comfort in its hiding spot. “Of course you’re excited to see him. Sometimes I think you wish he were the Captain, not me.”

Connor thought about this for a moment, considering the possibilities. Allen wasn’t amused in the slightest, rolling his eyes. “No…I’m not sure he’d make a good captain.”

“That’s more like it. Remember those words.” Allen took a deep breath as they walked into the building, ready to debrief his crew and move forward with their work together, Connor included.