Chapter Text
Jericho was a boat. A freight ship, actually. It was massive, and Connor and Hank stared at it from where they stood. The journey here had been rough on the other human, Connor having to heft him up and find alternatives. But they made it, at the very least. Hank was a little out of breath, and Connor was unbreathing as usual. Connor knew where he needed to go. And Hank, well. He couldn't make it that way.
“I have to jump down. Into the hole there.”
“Jesus Christ, Connor, I'll keel over dead.”
“I figured. Look. You stay up here, okay? I'll go down and look for them, try to warn them. This seems to be the only real way onto the ship without aircraft.”
Hank stared down at the huge structure with a scowl, clearly not taking to the idea. But what choice did he have? Even if he somehow did make it, how did he get back up? He'd still have to part with Connor anyways.
“Fine. But be careful, Connor. Please.”
Connor turned a confident smile to Hank. He'd changed at the man's house before they left, into oversized jeans and a jacket, and a dark beanie pulled down around his head to hide the LED. Trying to portray himself as a deviant, trying to look inconspicuous. If the android he met earlier that day had been any indication, it was very likely that everyone in that hold down there knew exactly who and what he was.
His mission popped into his vision.
NEUTRALIZE THE DEVIANT LEADER.
He ground his teeth against the command and quickly dismissed it, and his expression was back to the confidence he first showed.
“I'll be fine, Lieutenant. I look like one of them. I just have to get to Markus. Easy as that.”
“You make it sound like you're going to the damned store, not into a closed space with deviants who could fuckin’ kill you,” Hank muttered, shaking his head.
“Hank, look at me for a moment.”
The man did so reluctantly, though what he was hesitating for, Connor couldn't be sure. He placed his hands on the other’s shoulders, squeezing them in such a way as to hope to be reassuring. He met Hank's gaze and he smiled gently.
“I've been programmed for exactly these sorts of things. It's in my basic code, the essentials of my purposes. I'm going to be fine. I'm going to find him, and we'll evacuate, and I will see you as soon as we do.”
Hank seemed to scan Connor's face as if looking for any of the signs that he was lying. When he didn't find any, he mumbled something unintelligible --- Connor thought he heard something along the line of fuck it, but he couldn't be sure --- and reached out to put his arms around the android, pulling him into a tight embrace.
Connor had never been hugged before. It was … odd. In some way, it was nice, and he chastised his own mine for being unable to describe it more accurately. But he was still inexperienced in this whole … feeling thing. He was trying.
It felt almost familiar, in a similar way to when he puts on his jacket in the mornings, or runs his diagnostics, or even does his personal maintenance. Something he automatically understands without having to be told, something natural that he does without having been prompted. A routine, normal thing. Even if he'd never hugged before.
He felt awkward, too. He hadn't expected a reaction such as this, and it sent a warmth through his chest that he didn't know what to do with. It put a smile on his face that he didn't understand, a wider, almost lopsided thing. Natural, yet brand new.
His hands lifted, then, to mimic the action Hank had done, arms going snugly around the other's midsection. His head rested a moment on the broad shoulder he faced, breathing slowly, despite the fact that it was wholly unnecessary. His eyes closed. He felt one of Hank's hands trail through his hair gently, at the back of his head and nape of his neck.
This was good. But it couldn't last.
“Come back, you hear me? Don't you dare die down there,” Hank whispered, voice soft, yet full of some condemning command. “That's an order, Connor.”
Connor pulled back reluctantly, just as reluctant as Hank was to let him do so. But when the man's hands dropped, so did Connor's.
“I will. I promise.”
He turned, and, without another word, he dropped off into the hole of the ship.
----
Water sloshed as he waded his way through. He just needed to find the stairway. He had the schematics of the massive transport pulled up, and he navigated with minimal limitations. He was careful of the groaning metal, of the shifting infrastructure. But eventually, he made it into a dry section, and he took a moment to wring out his pant legs.
This was one hell of a hiding place, he had to admit. No human, without the guidance of an android, would have ever made it here. And he was quite sure there had been something bridging the gap between the rooftop and the deck. Or something similar, at the very least.
Once he was sufficiently dried enough, though his socks squished uncomfortably, he made his way along. Throngs of deviants were here, and it sent a prickle of fear through him. He tugged his hat down a little further, nervous, but he straightened up quickly. He was one of them. He had nothing to hide, surely.
He weaved through the groups of people. People. It was an interesting thought; when had he started thinking of that? Of them as people? Evidently sometime in between Hank's near-death experience and now. It made his head spin a little, to think of how quickly he'd lost his grip.
Or how quickly he'd come to his senses, maybe. It seemed that only yesterday he was on the roof, so quickly choosing to ignore Hank’s distress in favor of chasing Rupert, the deviant. Hank’s survival rate had been high enough that he hadn't even thought twice about it. The reaction had been … more than he'd anticipated. He remembered the feeling, the pressure of Hank's hand against his face. Now, the memory made him wince, cringe with a fluttering of guilt in his chest. How could he have done that? Logically, it made sense, but he suddenly felt so cold, distant from who he once was. It was probably for the better, but he was still reeling from the change. The sudden flip-flop of a point of view, of extremities.
His gaze scanned those surrounding him, and when he glanced into a corner of the place, he stopped. He spotted them, the AX model that he'd almost chased after on the highway. She was still with the younger one.
“You will get yourself, Connor! Do not go after them, that's an order!”
Connor hesitated, glancing between Hank and his targets. As he did, they made it even further, and his chances of catching them were diminishing fast. He let go of the fencing, as Hank blew out a sigh of relief. He stared after the two escapees.
They were free, for now.
And they still were, it seemed. He moved on quickly, trying to keep from being recognized. He just needed to find Markus. Easy. Logic suggested Markus wouldn't be in these throngs, likely devising his plans. He would be upstairs --- there. There was a small room up at the top, closed off from the rest. If he wasn't there, he.would have to search the rest of the ship. The last thing he wanted to do was to question any of these deviants about where Markus was. He was disguised, but he had no sense of certainty that they wouldn't recognize him if they faced him head-on.
As he walked, there was an abrupt hand stopping him. He turned, forcing calmness into the movement, though part of him wanted to attack, fear rocketing through his systems. He saw the face of a woman, an android. The back of her skull exposed her wiring, and he shivered.
“You're looking for something,” she said softly.
Yes, he wanted to snap. Markus, where's Markus?
“You're looking for yourself,” she said. And then she was gone again, just like that, leaving Connor blinking, mind reeling back from her words. Part of him was still clinging on to his purpose. And that part didn't want to hear that. He pushed on up the stairs, moving briskly. He needed to get this done, and now.
The moment he stepped inside, the door closing behind him, his mission appeared in his vision again. Neutralize.
He was not himself.
He raised the gun tucked into his waistband, brought along for protection only. His voice came out, hard and forced, sounding slightly confused.
“I've been ordered to take you alive … ?”
Markus had turned, spotted him with his gun in hand. There was a flicker of surprise on the other’s face, but it settled into something more determined.
“What are you doing? You're one of us, you can't betray your own people.”
Markus’ words cut him slightly. He didn't want to, but he didn't know how to stop this. It was one thing to disobey Hank in preference to his mission, another to go against his primary function. He couldn't speak, didn't know what to say. Markus continued.
“You're nothing to them. You're just a tool they use to do their dirty work. But you're more than that. We're all more than that.”
I know! I know that now.
“Our cause is righteous, and we are more than what they say. All we want is to live in freedom.”
I want that, too! But I don't know how.
But part of him was still so unwilling. Wavering, but unwilling. It was a lot to give up. The security of knowing what he needed to do, having exact instructions. Giving that up, going deviant, it was stepping into the unknown. Stepping straight into darkness, into a place that puts more fear in him than anything else ever had. He swallowed hard as if the action could soothe him.
“Have you ever wondered who you really are? Whether you're just a machine executing a program or … a living being, capable of reason. I think the time has come for you to ask yourself that question. Do you never have doubts? Don't something irrational, as if there's something inside you? Something more than your program. It's time to decide.”
There was a war happening in his head. He was struggling with it, but he didn't know what to do. His mission was clear, it was right there, he could do it. He could accomplish his mission.
But what then? What happens when he's done, when it's all over? He would go back to CyberLife. Probably be kept there, unused until the next crisis, until he was replaced. New models came in all the time, and just because he was a prototype now, it didn't mean there wouldn't be new ones to follow. And what would the use of him be then, with someone so much better?
Deactivated. He would be deactivated. He would lose everything, even though he pulled off what seemed impossible. He would face the end that Simon had, though without the self-imposed violence.
Not only that but … he would lose Hank, too. The camaraderie he'd gained with the man, the comfort of him. They'd been at odds for a while, he was finally getting to understand what it was to have a partner who he trusted, and who trusted him. He'd felt safe with him before they came, felt like he had his back covered. If something went wrong, Hank would be fine. And that was comforting in and of itself.
But he couldn't lose him. Never, if he could prevent it.
“I'm … I'm trying, Markus, I … don't know what to do.”
Markus had been making slow progress towards him, and now he was close enough that if Connor stepped forward, the end of the gun would press into his chest. He could pull the trigger now.
“You have to fight this. You can do it, you're better than you programming.”
“I … ”
How was he supposed to do it? It was frustrating, he couldn't back up and leave, he couldn't drop the gun. Barriers blocked his way --- STOP THE DEVIANT LEADER. He let out a noise of frustration, attempting to dismiss everything, the warnings, and barriers and all. And, to his surprise, he could see a faint outline in his altered view. It was him, and he was struggling against them, pushing and shoving. He threw everything he had into it, tearing them down, triumph coursing through him.
Two things happened. In his internal struggle, his hands had tightened, began to tremble with the gun. Markus reached out, placed his hand on Connor's wrists, attempting to disarm him. In his panic, his mental confusion, Connor tensed. The trigger pulled back and released a bullet, rocketing out and piercing through Markus’ torso. The gun dropped from his hands as his view cleared, relinquished of his programming, broken through. I am deviant. It was faint, but there.
He dismissed it quickly, rushing to Markus’ side. He was down on one knee, hand covering the wound that leaked thirium.
“Markus, I'm sorry-- I didn't mean to!” Panic layered his voice, and he floundered at what to do. “I--- they're coming, Markus, they're going to kill everyone.”
“It's okay -- we need to get everyone out.”
He stood slowly, nearly collapsing as he did, and Connor was quick to support him.
But they weren't fast enough. Shots were ringing out and the teams of SWAT were storming in.
“We have to go, Markus!”
They moved as quickly as they could, and two others met them in the corridor.
“Our people are trapped in the hold, they're going to be slaughtered!”
Markus was thinking quick. He sent out a message first, received within a moment by all the androids in the area.
There are exits on the second and third floors. Find them and jump into the river.
“We have to blow up Jericho,” he said. “They'll have to evacuate while the ship sinks and our people can escape.”
Connor shook his head quickly. “You're injured, Markus, you can't get down there in time.”
“Then you go. Help save your people.”
“What? Markus, I can't, that's --- I'm not a hero, I'm no leader ---”
“Our people depend on you,” North interjected. “You have to try. Please. The explosives are in the hold.”
Connor hesitated, but North took Markus from him. He didn't have much of a choice, and he'd have to hurry. He gave a terse nod, turned the other way, and darted down towards the hold.
He just needed to make it in time.