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Connor’s life had been going well for the last several months. He had saved up enough money to move out of Hank’s house and start renting an apartment he shared with Nines. He and Nines’ relationship had been going wonderfully ever since they officially got together about a year after the revolution, and he was making more progress with himself with each passing week. He had been working hard with integration and making himself less stiff and formal—although that wouldn’t seem like much to someone else, he was quite proud of himself. He had even begun to master his “sass factor” as Tina had put it.
And then everything had seemed to have gone to hell quicker than he would have ever imagined.
He and Nines had gotten off work at the same time one evening—working in the Android Crimes Division together tended to lend to almost the same schedules—and were heading home. However, Nines had said that he wanted to pick up something before going home and that Connor should not wait up for him. Connor would have rather waited, but Nines had seemed insistent, so he went along ahead. Even so, he had an odd feeling in his stomach component that had not gone away the entire car ride home.
A feeling that had continued to persist the longer he had spent waiting on the couch of their living room.
He had tried to distract himself by watching a show on Animal Planet and then later National Geographic, but the more time had passed the less he was able to pay attention to the television. One hour had made him worry. Two hours had made him anxious. Then when the third hour had passed with no notification from his boyfriend, he had nearly worn the hardwood floor down with his frantic pacing. Connor had sent him messages and calls over the course of those three hours to no avail.
He then had reached out to Hank, Tina, Chris, Ben, and even Gavin and Captain Fowler to see if anyone had heard any sort of word from Nines. Many calls and texts later, it had been close to midnight with no one hearing from Nines.
Nines had never returned home that night.
Or the night after that.
And two weeks later, he was still missing.
Working while knowing his boyfriend was missing with absolutely no sign as to where he could have gone was beyond difficult. When he was done with cases, he was spending hours and hours after his shift using all the resources he had looking for Nines. His coworkers often found him in the same position at his desk interfaced with his computer from the night before. He became less empathetic when catching criminals—he would later reflect back on that and feel some guilt at how scared they looked of him—and slowly withdrew from his friends and coworkers.
Hank pulled him aside one day after they finished a case. “Con, listen. I know that you’re going up the walls here with Nines missing. We’re all worried, too. But this,” he gestured to all of Connor, and the android would have been offended if he did not already know what Hank was referring to, “this is going to run you to the ground. You gotta take a breather.”
Just to be contrary (and vent some frustration), he said, “I don’t need to breathe.”
“Oh, shut up,” Hank shook his head and reached over to pull him in by the back of the neck. The man was not one for being “feelsy,” but Connor appreciated the hug. Greatly. “I know you do, you little turd. Maybe not like us boring humans, but you do. Come to my house for the night, you look like shit.”
“Wow, thank you for the loving compliment.”
“If you want another one, I got plenty stored up.”
Spending the night with Hank (and of course Sumo) had, admittedly, helped a little bit. His head was a bit clearer on their way to the precinct the next morning. However, when they were slammed with a new case as soon as they walked through the doors, he was beside himself with worry. Reports on their desks sent his stress levels skyrocketing to the nineties when he opened them.
Androids were being brutally murdered, torn apart and bled dry, absolutely decimating them. Bite marks, thirium gone, missing parts—there were no signs of a struggle, as if the culprit killed them with stealth precision before…killing them. Eating them?
All he could think about was one of these androids being Nines, and that was the final nail in the coffin. He ran to the nearest men’s restroom and emptied his stomach component. He had to lay on the couch in the breakroom gingerly sipping on thirium for the next half hour.
Because the case was so large and a high-risk factor, Gavin joined Hank and himself in the investigation. Now, his and Gavin’s relationship had improved somewhat since the revolution, but that did not stop them from snarking at each other while they were at work. However, with Nines missing, both of them were affected. Nines was Connor’s boyfriend and Gavin’s work partner. They shared an empathetic common goal to find him alive and bring him back—they kept the snarking low, using it to try and uplift the other if one of them saw the other going to a dark place. Connor would have never though hearing Gavin call him a “Keurig on the fritz with it’s brain fried” as something that would cheer him up, but it did for the most part. As did him calling Gavin a “a mess of squishy meat and caffeine” cheer the human up.
Despite this, each following day with no sign of Nines made Connor more desperate.
Desperate enough to move on his own.
His friends had warned him while he was at work that he needed to be incredibly careful with the murdered on the loose. Being part of the police force did not negate the fact that he was in a high-risk position himself. He told them he understood that fact and would try his utmost to keep safe. That seemed to work for most of them and they left it at that, but Hank was the one who was keeping a close eye on him. He was Connor’s first friend, so how could he not?
That only left Connor with one choice. Searching after hours on his own. He declined Hank’s offer to stay with him for the night again, citing that he wanted time to think on his own and that the plants in his apartment needed tending to. Hank gave him a look that said he did not necessarily believe him, but would not push it for the meantime.
Once he was in the clear, he opted to walk the streets. Getting a cab and driving from one spot to another had the high possibility of missing something, where walking and searching different parts of the city would allow him to look in detail. His friends and himself had already searched around the precinct and Nines and Connor’s shared apartment building, so he did not need to start there. Instead, would work his way from the area by Hank’s house towards the center of the city and then further. To his expectation, he did not fid any sort of clues around the residential areas near where Hank lived. The humans were frightened to go outside (many claiming that they would be the next victims, and those with android family member or partners worried for their loved android loved ones) and nearly all androids who lived there had been keeping to themselves in their homes for safety.
It was a smart plan.
Which he should have been following himself, a voice, that sounded a little too like Nines for comfort, came from his cranium.
Hush, not now.
He stopped right in the middle of his path, leaning his head back and sighing deeply. Oh great. Not only was he talking to himself, but now he was answering himself, too. By rA9, if someone were to hear him now they would think that he was crazy.
Especially Gavin.
Gavin wouldn’t hesitate to make fun of him.
That thought aside, he collected himself and began his search once again. It was close to two-thirty in the morning and he had not yet found a scrap of evidence as to where Nines could be. His stress levels were making his fingers shake, his calibrations and timing off. Yet, he dared not take out his coin to gain focus and calibrate his systems—if he needed to defend himself, he would need his hands empty and at the ready.
He had searched at least ten blocks, one park, and three sheds in detail and still came up with absolutely nothing. Sure he had come across several prostitutes—human only as the android one were in hiding and relying on their human counterparts to aid them—many bags of trash, and plenty of homeless people. Although he had no paper money to give the homeless people, though to the few that had a phone or compatible watch he was able to transfer them a small amount of money for their help, they still gave him a few moments of their time. None had seen anyone by Nines’ description, though a couple—a husband and wife—had seen some kind of…thing crawling about in the dark near the android dump near the edge of the city four days ago.
He thanked them for their time and made his way in that direction. It took him about an hour’s walk before he ran into someone that was able to give him another piece of information that would aid him. It was another prostitute, though this one was, surprisingly, and android.
“What are you doing out here, miss? It’s not safe to be out with whatever has been decimating androids recently.”
She looked at him with tired optics before pushing her cropped neon green bangs out of her face. “I know that, but I gotta make a living somehow. And before you say it,” she cut him off as he was about to open his mouth, “the local homeless shelters don’t like taking us in.”
By “us”, she could have meant prostitutes in general, but he had a strong feeling that being an android has something to do with it.
Prostitutes and the police had a…shaky relationship, to put it kindly. If he told her that he was part of the DPD, she would probably clam up and not speak to him again. Though, he did feel like she already knew who he was. He had been on the news enough and worked enough cases that nearly all androids in the city knew who Detective Connor was of the DPD—though the ugly brand of RK800 the Deviant Hunter had yet to leave him. There were still those who were afraid of him because of this, even more that hated him for that fact.
He still hated himself for his time as CyberLife’s hound, but he could not dwell on that right now.
Holding her gaze, he extended his hand out with his synthskin peeling away up to the wrist. An interface request. An olive branch. She glanced at his hand skeptically. “If you would be comfortable, I would like to know the information of all the shelters that have denied you. People have had discrimination protection when seeking help from shelters nationally since 2029 by the updated DPA. Once I know which shelters have been going against this law, I can make sure this does not happen again. One with your current career or not.”
Being who you are or not, she seemed to understood. And being a prostitute was not the only thing she was, they both understood well.
A glint of hope crossed her face. She nodded and extended her hand to clasp his, opening her side of the interface. It was quick, nothing like the interfaces he had with Nines or his other android coworkers. Hers was cold, a strange presence against his own surface code.
[The women’s shelter on Main and Park, Open Hands near back end of the grocery store near the bus station, That real goth-looking one that’s covered in creeping vines—forgot the name—by Frederick Street, and the shelter—the hole in the wall one—that’s not too far from that new supermarket.] There was a pause followed by the feelings of small hope-skepticism-skepticism-tiredness-hope. [You really wanna help us, don’t you?]
[I have since even before I became free and deviant.]
[It ain’t easy workin’ my profession, and the people that are “supposed” to help us don’t like “dirty” people in their shelters half the time—even though humans have been doing it since, what, the dawn of time or something? Anyway now, the shelters that did used to take androids of any nightly profession have been turning us away ‘cuz they’re scared we’re gonna attract the monster that’s been eating androids.]
Surprise-surprise-confirmation-worry. [So this…being really is eating androids, then?]
[Did…did you know someone that it’s killed?]
Worry-worry-fear-anxiety. [My boyfriend. He’s been missing for a while now, and despite all my searching and following any scant leads that I have come across, I have been emptyhanded.]
[I’m sorry to hear that.] Sympthaty-empathy-sadness-sympathy. [A girl that I knew since I became deviant—real sweet thing—went missing when this whole thing started. We looked after one of another, you know? Anyway, I found out what happened to her on the news one day while getting thirium handouts. Something maimed her! Limbs gone from her body, bled dry, face missing—they had to ID her from her serial number. Her serial number! She didn’t deserve that…no one does…” The woman began to weep, tears falling across her glitching cheeks. Aloud and slightly staticky, she pulled back her hand and said, “No one deserves that kind of fate. Especially your boyfriend, not like that. If you can promise getting us safety, I wanna make sure you at least got a chance finding him.”
“Thank you,” he nodded. “And I can, I will. You are a person who deserves the same rights and protections as everyone else does.”
She leaned back three percent and blinked at him with wide eyes. From her reaction, he assumed that must not have been something she heard very often or even at all. It his pump hurt. She pointed towards the direction that he knew would take him towards the edge of the city. “I had a client who worked near the factories and centers near the android graveyard. I was on my way back to the hotel I had been staying at when I saw something moving in there. I know not all of the androids have been rescued from that hell hole, but it didn’t move like them. It scuttled,” she shivered, “like a person-sized spider or something, and it as dragging an android by its mouth behind some corner. I was too scared to stick around and find out what exactly it was—I hightailed it the hell out of there.”
This information corroborated what the homeless couple he had spoken too earlier had told him. It confirmed that there was something or someone—should he even call this a person who is doing?—in that dump, that graveyard, killing androids in Detroit. “As you should have,” he nodded. “I am aware that your working position is not the safest, but when crossing a situation like that, you did the best thing possible to guarantee your own safety.”
He then told her, “When you are able, there is an android refuge about eight blocks from her to the east near the warehouse district. Some androids from Jericho repurposed one of the abandoned ones the humans forgot about it turned it into a safe place. Once you get there, look for Lucy. Tell her that Connor sent you.” He had come across Lucy by happenstance about three months after the revolution. He had been looking for Markus as they had a meeting to discuss Jericho-DPD relations, and he had come across her in his search. He had been in a…less than positive mental state during that time and she was a kind soul who offered an ear to listen and words to help.
“Thank you, really.” She move to leave, but turned just before. “My name is Cynthia, by the way.”
“Be safe then, Cynthia. Thank you for all of your help.”
“Same to you, Connor. And I hope you find that boyfriend of yours.”
He watched her leave for a minute before he set off for his destination. It took him a while to get there, his inner chronometer reading close to four forty-five in the morning, but then he did, he felt an odd mix of eagerness to search a new lead, discomfort in having the unknown all around him, and a bit of fear thinking of a (possibly) cannibalistic android roaming around the dumping grounds like he was the next new feast.
If he were not careful, he may indeed be.
It was beyond difficult trying to search for one android in this entire mass of trash, android scrap parts, and androids themselves. Most of the still activated androids had been rescued as best as possible, but there were still several who were waiting for someone to find them. In this moment, that someone was Connor as he was rifling through cold layers of the heap. Every time he across an android part, he a split second of hope and terror that it was Nines. Then, when he unearthed what he came across, more hope would die and fear would rise when he saw it was not Nines. Despite his goal being his boyfriend, he did create a list in his memory of all those came across, both activated and deactivated. By the time he got to one side of the dump to the other, he already had sixty-eight android serial numbers stored away in a folder.
He would help them, he promised himself. I will come back for you all. This should not have happened to you. I will come back with help, so please just hold on a little longer. They would have to wait. Right now, Nines took priority.
Determination bled through his lines as he kept searching. His hands were beyond dirty, there were scrapes and scratches on the synthskin of his hands and arms, and he could not tell if the unease he was feeling was from fear and anxiety. Probably both. But—
Wait.
Is that…? He saw something sticking out from the bottom of a pile of frayed tarps and wooden boards. Something took a hold of him, propelling his body forward as he clamored to reach it. He practically dove as he threw away everything that was on top of what caught his optics, desperation making him shake. There was a piece of hidden metal that sliced the corner of his hand, but he did not care. Just had to dig, keep digging, keeping digging, and—
A shaky breath escaped him as he slowly pulled out what he had seen.
Covered in filth, wet, and torn, in his hands was a familiar cream-colored long jacket that he was used to seeing almost every day. Every day but recently.
It was Nines’ jacket Connor had given him as a gift.
He scanned the item knowing that thirium would have long since evaporated if it had been present, and thus when he saw the jacket had evaporated remains of thirium belonging to Nines’ serial number, his stomach component lurched. A tearless sob broke from his chest. “Oh rA9, Nines, what happened to you? Where are you?” He clutched the jacket to his chest and sat on his knees for an unknown amount of time.
A loud rustle of something came from behind him, making him stand up sharply and look around.
Then it came again from his other side. He whirled around, still holding the jacket close with one hand while the other was ready just in case. Nothing, he saw nothing. He scanned the area, hoping to pick up something via his software that his normal sight would not have seen.
His optics darted side to side, up and down, all over.
Nothing.
The sounds were getting closer.
His breathing was hard to keep steady.
Right behind him.
He ducked and readied to swing at whatever it was, but—
Something slammed into him.
Pain.
Blackness.
Connor woke up sore.
He groaned, wincing when he touched the port at the back of his neck. When he opened his optics, his vision glitched at the corners for a few seconds, although that did not make much of a difference as it quite dim. There was, however, just enough light from a thin horizontal at the top to see burnt smears and still wet thirium on his hand when he pulled it back from his neck. “Fu-ukkk.” His voice was a burst of static.
What on earth happened? He remembered searching the dump, finding Nines’ jacket, and then hearing something all around him. He got...He got tackled from behind! Something tackled him and must have knocked him out with some kind of electric weapon to his cervical spine port. Honestly, other than the glitching vision, pain, and leaking thirium, he was grateful it was not worse. His whole central processor could have gotten scrambled if the current had been too strong, or even had been permanently disabled.
Leaning his head and back against a cold wall, he sighed. “Do not go out, they said. It is dangerous, they said.” He rubbed just under his LED where he felt a cranium-ache starting, “Why did I not just ask Hank for help?”
He noticed some movement at the other end of the room, which snapped his attention. He startled and he began to grow increasingly scared when he noticed the movement start to change—something was moving in an inhuman nature. Haltingly. Joltingly. He could just make out limbs that should not be, movements that did not follow any natural pattern. He had never seen anything move in that kind of nature nor have more limbs than should be natural.
He swallowed. “H-Hello…?” he called out to whatever it was, only to hear a pained noise.
At his voice, the limbs and larger mass move away from him, pressing himself against the wall, and it was then that he knew that whatever this…being was did not want to be here any more than he did. It was scared and more than likely hurt like him. The core of his coding was built to analyze, think, examine, and adapt, and now it was time to adapt. Pushing away his own pain and fear, he slotted Connor the Worried, Injured Boyfriend away to make way for Connor the Negotiator. Before making a move, he softened his voice, exuding calm and reassurance. “Hello there. I mean you no harm.”
The being remained in the same place.
“I was brought here against my will. It seems like you have as well. Is that correct?”
The being did not move from its spot, but he saw its mass shudder.
“It is quite dark in here. Normally I would not mind the dark when I am home as that means it is time to rest. I do not think it is very restful here, do you think? I do think the light from the top makes it more manageable. Perhaps when it is daylight, it will be much brighter. Have you seen this place brighter?”
There was some movement from the being across the room. It…They looked as if they had moved to face him. Some progress.
Through more questions and just calmly speaking to them, he was able to slowly get closer and closer to the being. He had to wait a few times as they would flinch back when he drew near, but he was patient and went at their pace. When he was close enough, he was finally able to see them in more detail, but they had most of their broad back to him. Leaning in just a bit, he saw that they had their face hidden in their hands. They were still scared.
He does not dare to touch them yet—one touch could undo all the progress he had made—so he simply sits near them and talks in a low, gentle voice about everything and nothing. About fifteen minutes later, he sees the being shift a bit towards him and then peek out from between their fingers.
And when they do, Connor nearly chokes.
Behind those hands was Nines’ face staring back at him. Oh, rA9, Nines!
Nines watches him carefully, so despite the fact that Connor wanted to break down right then and there from relief and horror, Connor made sure that he did not move too quickly. It takes a while to make Nines comfortable enough to lower his hands, and the sight makes his pump ache. Nines’s dark hair is limp with dirt, hanging over a glowing glass plate on his forehead. His eyes were a bright blue before, but now they radiated light in the darkness, ringed targets peering out at him. He had dark, visible seams running from below his optics to a long horizontal one across each cheek over the bridge of his nose and another running from either side of his mouth.
“…C…C-Con-noor?” the familiar voice creaked and cracked through the segmented mouth and sharp teeth that resided inside. A soft, scared sound against sharp and deadly confines. “Co-o-onnor…?”
The pain in his chest that blossomed as he listened to Nines’ scared, cracked, fragile voice was something that he could not describe. He was overwhelmed with the urge to draw him close, though when he went to do so, he realized the Nines’ body was much larger than it had been before. He was twice his side across the shoulders than previous, the black of his inner chassis stark against the durable plastisteel of his outer white chassis. His arms were nearly three quarters of Connor’s height, and from looking, Connor estimated that his multiple segmented black limbs that extended from his body would be bring Nines to a height much taller than his. Nines was on the floor, so it was hard to be exact.
“Yes, yes, Nines, i-it’s me,” Connor’s voice was a barely a whisper as he gathered as much as Nines as he could within his arms. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s me. I am so sorry it took me so long to find you.” He pressed his face against Nines’ hair as he cradled the other’s face under his chin.
“C-Connor…Connor, safe?” Nines creaked.
Connor stilled, slowly drawing away from the other’s dark hair. He still held the other’s face in his hands as he met his gaze. The blink of Nines’ bright blue-white optics shuttered open and close like that of a camera lens. The RK800’s eyebrows furrowed. “Safe? Well, I do not think being here constitutes as safe, but I am as safe as I can be at the moment, love”
Nines violently shook his head. He drew his body up quicker than anticipated, spider-like limbs partially bracketing Connor and hands on his shoulders. The circular glass screens on his arms and pulled-apart hips flickered brightly. “No! No, no, no.” He growled, beginning to pull at his hair (it was this movement that made Connor noticed the bracketed arch that started from either side of Nines’ collarbone to arch at meet above and slightly behind his head. “Hnnnnno no—man promised. Promised Connor safe.”
Man? Man…there was someone else here? His mind whirled, beginning to formulate all sorts of possibilities. “There was a man that promised my safety? For what? What happened?”
The large white hands on his shoulders began to roam his body, patting here and there as if they were searching for injuries. They found the various nicks on his arms and hands and the large on his hand. A distressed whine sounded from Nines and he began to visibly grow upset: his spider limbs began to tap against the floor and walls in restlessness and the hands on Connor grew more frantic. “No, no, no, not safe! Hurt, why…why is Connor hurt? Why?”
It took him a while to get Nines to calm down. His boyfriend’s distress was making his own stress levels rise once again, but he focused himself in taking care of Nines. Once he was able to get the other to sit back down and quiet, he was able to explain that no one had hurt him and that he has unintentionally done it to himself while he was digging (though where, he chose to leave out). That seemed to placate Nines for the meantime. But now that Nines had his answers, it was time for Connor to get some of his own.
He thought it took long to get the other to calm down, but it took even longer to coax some answers out of him. Anytime he asked him a question, he would throw distressed looks over his shoulder to what Connor now noticed to be a door. How in the hell did I miss that before? Determination, however, won. Through Nines’ halting manner of speech, he was able to piece everything together: Nines had been kidnapped on the way home, having been ambushed with a new experimental weapon that had worked even against an RK900’s advanced systems and makeup. The man who did it had been part of the 900-build team, and having intimate knowledge of how Nines worked, experimented on Nines until he looked to be the way he was now. The RK900 was forced to hunt androids for blue blood while he was required to bring parts back to the ex CyberLife technician for raw materials. Nines was the latest project and often had to go against other subjects.
At this point, Connor’s cranium was dizzy with the disturbing information. Nines was not the only one that had been drawn into this twisted reality. There were other androids turned into bastardizations of themselves, but they became fodder for Nines. Ways for him to forcibly practice any new weapon or tech that the technician put into his body. Tests and data, Nines had been told. It was then, when Nines was telling him of all the things he was forced to do, that he felt the other’s body shudder.
His jacket became wet.
“I am so sorry, Nines. I am so sorry.”
- - - - -
Several hours had passed with the two of them alone. Connor heard the metallic creaking of chassis creaking and the pained moans of other androids coming from other places in whatever place they were being held at. The room was still the same light level as it had been earlier, dim, even with the passage of time. He had tried several times already to send out any sort of message, signal, call, or even a ping, but nothing could get out. His communications systems were offline since he had awoken, and no matter how hard he tried, nothing, nothing, nothing, worked. He was beyond frustrated.
With nothing to do but sit and talk, he eventually learned even more of the hell that Nines had been going through. Other than the obvious physical changes that had been done to his body, the technician changed his systems and internal workings, removed biocomponents while adding others, and his ability to take in and absorb thirium. Because the man who had been experimenting on Nines restricted his thirium intake—more like refused to give him any unless absolutely necessary—the android was forced to drink thirium from other androids in order to survive.
“Other androids…have already processed thirium,” he said slowly. “Raw thiri-i-i-um b-buuuurns throat. Burns. Hu-u-urts body.”
Connor did the only thing that he could do in the moment. He did the best he could to keep Nines close to him. Petting his hair, rubbing the back of his neck, little things to try and help. He knew it was not much. He hated he could not do more.
Just as he was about to distract Nines with literally anything on his mind, he heard a groaning creak of metal being moved. The door became a yawning maw of light which temporarily blinded him due to the light difference. His eyes calibrated enough for him to see. The room they had been in was utterly disgusting with mold, dirt, and rust on almost every surface. He was about ninety-nine percent sure there was old thirium splattered around, but could not access his software that would allow him to scan for that information.
Whatever was on the other side of the open door was not good.
His body was tense and all his systems were screaming at him to be prepared to fight. He was thrown off balance, though, when Nines stood up and began to head for the door. Connor reached out to gran one of his large hands. “Where are you going?”
His boyfriend looked resigned, eyes low to the ground, body slumped in sadness. This was a a stark difference from what he was before. Defeated was not a word that he would have used to describe the other, but it was apt in this moment. He looked to Connor then back to the door. “Fighting. Have to. Have to fight…in are-e-e-ena.”
“Fight in the—Nines, no!” Connor tugged his arm, but Nines was not moving. Like this was a routine.
Nines used his other hand to remove Connor’s as gently as he could. “If I…do not fight, pain. W-worse. Exper-er-eriments…not good. Other andro-o-oidsss will come…after you. Not safe.”
After him? Nines was protecting him from the other android experiments?
He did not know what to say as he watched his boyfriend leave and the door slam shut, leaving him in low light once again.
It had been several weeks since Connor had been taken and even longer since Nines had originally been kidnapped.
When he had first spoken to Nines about everything here, he looks so tired and defeated. Like he had no hope for anything. However, the more Connor spoke with him as the weeks went on, he could see a fire reignite in his boyfriend. He grew to have more energy despite his like of thirium and looked less resigned whenever they signaled him to go out and fight or prowl the streets of Detroit at night. He hated doing the first and absolutely abhorred the latter, but he at least had some fight kindling inside of him.
One day when he had ingested enough thirium to maintain himself for a while, he conversed with Connor about potentially escaping. It had been impossinnle to do on his own before but with Connor here, there was someone that he could rely on. “Too many before. Was caught…first, second, fifth times. Punished.” Nines made a chittering noise that Connor could not decipher the meaning of before continuing, “Connnor here…makes it easier. I think we ca-a-a-an do it…next week.”
“Why next week?” he asked as he attempted to clean his face.
“Rotation of guards. Rotation of o-o-o-other androids. Gap in system.”
This was the first time that Connor had seen Nines determined to action since he had been taken here. Here was their chance to escape and by rA9, they were going to take it.
And so they did.
They waited and bided their time until the next week rolled around. It was difficult to watch Nines be summoned to fight and to be “tested” during that time, but their freedom was so close that he knew he just had to deal with it.
They took the opportunity while Nines was being escorted back. The technician who had been behind all of this thought Nines to be docile enough that he only needed one guard during transfer between holding and experimentation. And that is here he went wrong. Nines attacked the guard, quickly silencing him for good, before scuttling back to the cell to get Connor. Once together, they hurried around the guard pattern that Nines had memorized. Minutes seemed like hours as they maneuvered the maze of hallways and cells. Slowly. Then quickly. And finally, finally they saw an exit about fifteen to twenty yards away.
“Nines! Nines, we’re almost there!” He reached up to pat Nines’ back, both in reassurance and hurry.
“A-Almost the-eee-ere.”
But, they were not so lucky.
Just as they were about to reach the exit, about three yards in Connor heard the crack of electricity before he saw a large arc spark across Nines’ chest and shock his entire body. Screams echoed throughout the hallway and chilled Connor to his frame as he was forced to watch his boyfriend be electrocuted. “No!”
“And here I thought that my favorite little monster had learned to behave.”
Connor turned to see a man standing down the hall with a remote in his hand. He had on a technician’s jacket, nondescript jeans and t-shirt, and had dark hair and olive skin. He looked…bored, almost? Despite his appearance, he knew that nothing good was about to happen now that this man was here. The man who started this hell.
The screams and crackling of electricity finally stopped. Nines collapsed to the ground, offline.
The man clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He began to walk closer. “A shame. I thought he had finally learned how things worked around here.” He looked Connor dead in the optic and smiled, “But I always take pleasure in helping my pets learn. And it’s about time you learned as well, don’t you think?”
Dread filled Connor instantly.
- - - -
In exchange for keeping Connor safe—both from experimentation and the other android experiments who had almost attacked him—Nines “agreed” to undergo even more experiments and augmentations. Connor vehemently protested, but Nines was nothing if not stubborn. Plus, any fight that had been left in the RK900 has evaporated away with the failed escape attempt and following…reeducation.
Connor was forced to watch the person he loved become more and more twisted into someone’s pet weapon and he hated it. When Nines had become deviant, the RK900 had hated the fact that he was made to be a weapon, having a hard time fitting in. He had wanted people to be less afraid of him, but most took one look at his face and his intimidating presence and turned in the other direction. So to see him become the one thing that he did not want to be, it made Connor’s pump ache and ache and ache.
They became codependent to one another, trying to just make it day by day. Connor took care of Nines after each fight and augmentation while Nines protected Connor from the other androids that wanted to eat him and drink his blood. However, it was this need to protect Connor that did something to Nines. He spoke less and less after each session with that bastard technician, especially after major augmentations began to take place. If Connor had thought that Nines struggled to communicate and interact before, it was much worse now.
Nines’ speech became a rarity, and when he did speak, it took a long time for Connor to piece together a meaning behind his words. They were all over the place and rarely made sense. It was only Nines’ body language that allowed for clearer communication.
Connor let out a bitter laugh.
Nines had always been a man of action rather than words, after all.
Nines’ mind had become warped and fragmented. His love only focus was his love and protection for Connor, Connor, Connor.
In Connor’s mind, the only important thing was making sure he took care of Nines.
They only had each other, did they not?
It took a long time for the DPD to find them.
But when they do, it is not to something they expected.
The door to Nines and Connor’s cell was slammed open one day, causing both of them to snap to their feet. It was neither a fighting day nor had the technician called for any more experiments or data, so neither of them knew what to expect. What Connor did not guess was to see members of the DPD at the mouth of the door, dark silhouettes against the bright light.
“Nines, Connor! Oh my god, we finally found you,” Hank’s familiar voice sounded in their cell as he stepped forward to get closer to them. Gavin was right behind him.
Not even having taken five steps into the cell, Nines curled around Connor protectively. His two remaining human-like arms formed a barrier between Connor and the others, one on top of his head and the other curled in front of his chest. Connor looked down and sighed, lifting a hand to rest on the arm that was closest to his chest.
His job was to take care of Nines, always, no matter what. No matter what.
“N-Nines?” Gavin called out, shocked at what he was seeing. “The hell happened? What…” Not far behind Gavin, Tina had a hand covering her mouth, speechless.
Connor had become codependent of Nines just like Nines had become codependent of him. They were all they had left. Their coworkers and friends would simply not understand. They would revile at what Nines had been forced to do, at what Connor had done to aid in Nines’ health. They were the police and it was their job to enforce the law.
A little voice in Connor’s head told him that he and Nines were part of the police, too.
After all this, he did not feel that to be quite true.
He eventually gets Nines to calm down enough that he drops his hands away from Connor enough for the DPD to get closer, though still remaining standing behind him and towering above him. Although Connor knew that, logically, the DPD was here to help. Even though he saw that his friends and coworkers had come to rescue them and bring them home, he could not help but lean against Nines who had moved to cradle him once again as he stared them down with target eyes.
Amongst the commotion of people flitting around and a few android medical technicians trying to get closer, the feeling of Nines at his back was comforting. Nines was a certainty when everything else was not.
He looked up at Nines, one arm on one of Nines’ and was saddened to see what Nines had become. He thought something to himself that came deep from his core.
They took away your brightness and perverted it into darkness. I will become a monster to them for turning you into a monster, my love. I will become the monster that they will fear.
I will become a monster for you.
Published: 2/20/22
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