Chapter Text
Date Time
AUG 1 2039 AM 8:33
The pads of Connor’s fingers brush against the silk tie he adjusts within his collar, squinting and scrutinizing each inch of his reflection until his eyes veered to the small colored sticky notes that traced the edge of the mirror.
‘Stop feeding Sumo unhealthy treats’ in pink.
‘Make Healthy choices for your lunch’ in yellow.
‘stop clogging up the fuckin mirror’ in blue.
His eyes skimmed over the rest of the colorful notes, many with similar colorful language scrawled in fading ink. They contrasted the other notes printed with dark blue ink, in perfect CyberLife Sans.
He walked out of the bathroom in a pressed white shirt, a dark blue vest and tie on with black slacks and shoes. An outfit reminiscent of his CyberLife uniform, except this one was much less advanced. No glowing white print that stated his model on one side of his chest, a glowing blue triangle on the right that labeled he was made in Detroit.
No, instead of the stiff plastic-y jacket, he wore normal clothes. Simple silk, simple cotton, nothing technologically enhanced. And it felt just right.
Connor would’ve looked every part human, if it weren’t for the small LED that circled a light blue on his temple.
He took only a step outside of the corridor to glance around the house briefly. Sumo laid on the couch, snoring. No Hank to be found.
Something mimicking a sigh came from Connor as he turned on his heel, knocking once.. twice on Hank’s door before turning it open.
“It’s 8:35 AM, Hank. We should’ve left by now to arrive at the Station-“
He only got an incoherent groan as a response as the lump in the bed turned away from the door.
Connor’s expression hardened slightly, if that’s how Hank wanted to do this, then fine.
Stepping up to his bedside and rearing one hand back, he gave Hank another chance.
“Hank, I insist that you wake up and get ready now.”
Another grumble, perhaps a more coherent murmur of cursing. Connor took a moment, calculating how much force he would need to get Hank up without being too pissed off about the rude awakening. His palm made brief contact with Hank’s cheek as he raised his voice a little more.
“Lutenient!”
Before he could find nostalgia in the action, hands flew up in the air. One to smack Connor’s face away and the other to get himself up as Hank yelled.
“Jesus Christ, Connor! How many fuckin’ times do I have to tell you, stop doing that shit!”
Connor met his glare with a smile, standing straighter, “I’ll meet you in the car, Hank.”
Connor walked out of the room listening to Hank’s grumbling, most likely directed towards him, before closing the door and making his way outside. He took a brief stop in front of the couch, scratching the top of Sumo’s head before resuming his way to the car.
TIME
AM 8:50
If he didn’t arrive by 9:00, Connor would check if Hank was actually awake, he decided. It’d already been 15 minutes and Connor wanted to be there at 9:00, not leave by 9:00. He’d been trying to build a routine with Hank.
>-
“I’m concerned for Hank. He’s been irritable as of late, and he doesn’t seem to be as focused on work.”
Markus half-smiled, “Isn’t he normally like that?”
“More irritable, then. I just don’t know what to do..”
“Setting a consistent sleep schedule can help seniors’ mood and physical health exponentially.”
“..what? I was made to take care of a senior.”
-<
“The fuck are you smiling about?”
Connor lifted his head to watch as Hank sat into the driver’s seat, attempting to school his expression into a less-obvious, more polite smile
“Just a memory.”
A half hearted, suspicious glare was tossed his way before Hank seemed to brush it off, starting the ignition of his car. The silence between the two felt somewhat comfortable, drawn out not because of a lack of things to speak about, but from the early hour.
To fill the silence, Connor reached out to tap on the tablet attached to the console of the car, skewing it slightly to his sight.
Immediately, a blonde haired woman was on the screen, in the middle of a report.
“-anniversary of the ‘Android Revolution’. The U.S has come a long way from how it was only a year ago, as the elected representative for androids ‘Markus’ has proposed several laws to ensure androids are treated fairly.”
Connor watched the screen turn to a recording of a year ago, a tall figure in a coat standing atop a barrier, facing soldiers with guns all trained on him.
He had to stop the amount of memories that attempted to replay in his head, stifling each pop-up his system displayed for him. The footage cut to zoomed in footage of Markus, and Connor could see the melancholy expression on his face. The wear of a world that only wants him dead.
“Detroit has effectively become a safe haven for androids, being the most progressive on the subject of Android Rights out of all 50 states. Whether it is by choice or by force is debated upon-“
Connor was immediate in turning the tablet off, he didn’t have time to listen to subtle complaints about ‘what Detroit was coming to’. He’d rather listen to the engine of the car, and Hank’s grumbling about traffic in the morning.
Another reason to leave earlier, he contended with the made up situation.
“Remind me, why are we this damn early to leave?”
“Captain Fowler sent out an e-mail to everybody in the station to arrive in a timely matter, there was something important he needed to tell everyone.”
Connor decidedly didn’t mention the added benefit of helping Hank’s mood. Instead, he attempted to hint at it. Subtly, of course.
“Perhaps.. we should leave this early every morning? It might be beneficial for your health-“
“I don’t need fuckin’ health tips from you, Connor. My health’s just fine.. thanks.”
Hank always said he wasn’t particularly great at being subtle.
The rest of the drive was metal music, interjected by the occasional honking at cars that were too slow to drive when a light turned green and more than enough road rage for 9:23 AM.
Connor stepped out of the car with Hank, straightening out his tie again as they walked towards the doors.
“What do you think Captain Fowler has to tell us?”
“Can’t be good. I don’t remember the last time Fowler addressed the entire station.”
Connor nodded, LED circling yellow for a few seconds as they passed through the gates that led to the office. He looked over the room, finding Captain Fowler still in his office, and more officers than usual lingering about the area.
─────── ─────── ──────── ─────── ───────
MODEL RK900
SERIAL #: 313 248 317 - 87
BOOTING UP…
LOADING OS …
SYSTEM INITIALIZATION…
CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… OK
INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS… OK
INITIALIZING AI ENGINE… OK
MEMORY STATUS…
ALL SYSTEMS
Date Time
AUG 1 2039 AM 10:01
RK900’s audio sensors cut in to hear Captain Fowler’s speech.
“After CyberLife’s shut down, Jericho’s been dealing with the left over androids that were still there. This is RK900, as far as Jericho knows, the only one of his model. He’s been assigned here as part of the.. “Android Reintegration Program.”
“Reed, you’re in charge of i-.. him. Give him the go arounds of the station and answer any questions he might have. For now, he’ll be your partner-“
“Phuck no! I’m not babysitting some plastic fuckin’ toy!”
“You’ll do as I say, detective, and without any complaining.”
The man was still yelling as Captain Fowler returned to his office, leaving RK900 on the small, glass balcony and with every officer staring at him.
The first thing he did was look at the man that was supposed to be his partner.
>DET. REED, GAVIN
Born: 10/7/2002 // Detective
Criminal Record: Use of Illicit Substances
// MISSION: Meet Detective Reed //
Detective Reed was glaring at him, still murmuring insults towards RK900 that his audio sensors clearly picked up, even with the distance. The man eventually sat down harshly in his chair, craning his neck to stare down at his phone.
RK900 walked down the stairs of the small balcony, only taking a few steps before being interrupted by an RK800.
>MODEL RK800-
Detective
Serial#: 313 248 317 - 52
Status: N/A
The clothes the RK800 wore was a sign enough that it was deviant. The smile on its face was the second sign.
“Hello, I’m Conner. I didn’t know CyberLife made.. an advancement on my model.”
RK900 looked down at the RK800’s offered hand, then up at its face again. He didn’t bother shaking it, instead offering a slight nod and keeping his hands neatly folded behind his back.
“My model was supposed to be mass-produced once the prototypes succeeded in their mission to stop deviancy in androids.”
He let his gaze leave RK800’s to glance around the station, lingering where the Android parking used to be before landing on him again.
“I’ve recognized you failed your mission.”
The RK800 paused,
>Suprise
Then its LED circling Yellow. Yellow. Blue as it retracted its hand and smiled again.
[Why is it smiling?]
“I don’t think of it as failed. I simply updated my mission to help the revolution.”
“We can agree to disagree.”
RK900 turned and walked after that, heading straight towards Detective Reed’s desk. He placed himself right beside his chair, perfected posture and head slightly tilted down to see him better.
“I am RK900-“
“Yeah, I know what you are, smartass. Fowler said it in his fuckin’ speech.”
// MISSION: Meet Detective Reed ✓ //
// Tour The Station //
Detective Reed didn’t look up from his phone, instead sinking further into his seat. He didn’t say anything else. RK900 waited. After ten seconds, he lifted his head to stare back at RK900.
“The fuck’re you staring at, prick?”
“Captain Fowler said you’re showing me around the station, correct?”
Detective Reed scoffed, “I’m not holding your hand, asshole. You can go ‘round yourself, can’t you? You’re an advanced android.”
>Sarcasm
// MISSION: Meet Detective Reed ✓ //
// T̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶T̶h̶e̶ ̶S̶t̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ //
RK900 looked away from Detective Reed, scanning the Station in its entirety. In his database, he found a layout of the Detroit Police Department. He didn’t need a tour of the station to begin with, but it felt like a formality.
RK900 supposed that some humans didn’t do formalities.
He rounded Detective Reed’s desk to sit into the one directly across from him. It made Detective Reed look up from his phone again, directly staring at RK900.
“The fuck you think you’re doing?”
“I’m claiming this desk. Seeing as we’ll be working as partners, I’ve concluded this would be the most optimal seat-“
“I don’t give a shit about what’s optimal, go find another fuckin’ desk. I’m not sharing one with a plastic prick.”
RK900 paused for a second, “I think you misunderstood me, Detective Reed. I’m not asking for your permission.”
He jolted upwards, slamming his phone down on his desk and raising his head over both of the computer screens on the desks.
>Anger
“Listen to me, smartass, I said you’re not phuckin’ sitting there. Unless you want to get fucked up-“
“Reed! Stop threatening him.”
RK900 turned his head to find the source of the voice, 20 feet away.
>LT. ANDERSON, HANK
Born: 09/06/1985 //
Police Lieutenant
Criminal Record: None
Detective Reed swiveled his head to look at Lieutenant Anderson, his focus seeming immediately diverted as he lifted himself from the desk and stormed up at him.
RK900 watched the two start to argue, the shorter man pointing fingers at the other’s chest and looking as if he was trying to make himself look bigger despite the height difference.
[He looked like an idiot.]
RK900 turned his gaze to the other Android opposite of Lieutenant Anderson’s desk. It was staring at the two men arguing, a crease in its brow, its LED circling yellow.
>Distress
RK900 continued to watch the argument unfold, his LED Yellow. Yellow.
>Conclusion:This workplace is entirely dysfunctional.