Chapter Text
“There’s a message for you, Connor,” Fowler was scowling as Connor and Hank walked into the DPD. On top of the stairs leading to his office, the man looked imposing, with the permanent scowl of a man who had seen things and had to deal with a department full of law enforcement that clearly struggled daily. And Fowler was not a messenger.
Connor opened his mouth, closed it, and walked to him. “Sir?” he asked, standing just before the stairs. The man blocking the door meant that whatever the message was would be told to everyone listening. And while no one else here had Android hearing, you could hear a hush as everyone tried to focus.
“Markus has reported an Androidcide, and wants you to go to the crime scene,” Fowler said, his hands gripping the rail for a moment. “He didn’t phone the police, but the mayor told me to deal with it. So. You go. Take Anderson with you, I want to have at least one proper detective there.”
Connor watched the man for a long moment, analysing him as he stood there.
>>>Sweating, heart rate and temperature increase, breathing increased
>>>>Anger, frustration
So Connor, taking full advantage of the programming that CyberLife had given him, decided to stay silent and give a nod rather than comment. Fowler tended to ignore him, still somewhat considering him just a machine. But Connor would prefer not to experience the sort of interaction that Fowler and Hank used to have.
Sometimes, do nothing was a valid option.
He turned and walked past Hank, not even going to their desks. He heard Hank grumble behind him and did not need to strain his audio processors to guess the string of various profanities that Hank most likely got out.
“I’m going to need a fucking coffee on my way,” Hank said, shaking his head as he went to the car. He stopped and looked at Connor, before he could get in. “Jeffrey’s in a bad mood, it’s not a reflection on you. It’s…we’re understaffed and over worked.”
Connor looked at him, his features still. He could see Hank watching for a reaction, but he did not want to volunteer anything.
I am processing that Fowler does not like me.
I am processing that Fowler does not see me as anything except a toaster on legs.
It’s unfair.
“It does not matter,” Connor said instead, watching him for a long moment. “This may not be what he wishes, but there is still a murder. And Markus must have a reason for us going.”
“For you going,” Hank corrected and opened the door, getting into the car. “I’m just the chauffeur.”
“Hank…” Connor got in as well, looking at him before he looked ahead. “You’re always so much more than that.”
To me, you are the one who led me down the path to become a Deviant. You are the one who guided me, who made me care about your wellbeing, by being so human.
The address that Markus had given them was one of the new Android-only buildings. With housing always a problem for most cities, the idea of quick rise blocks where such things as plumbing wasn’t important had sparked a new wave. It was the most basic of housing, but it was a roof over the heads of Androids who had not gotten employment. And the Androids had done what they could to make it nicer. They drove past some anti-Android slogans as they got closer, but it then changed to the LED symbol that the Revolution had taken as its banner. Ironic, when most got rid of it. There were plants, trees…the greenery maintained by Androids that lived there.
Hank parked the car with the ease of someone used to driving. Not having an automated car, Hank seemed to take pleasure in driving. Connor wondered why. Of course, it didn’t really matter. Now they were parked, they had things to do.
>>>Mission: Find Markus
It was a familiar one, echoing through him with the memory of standing in Jericho, so close to Markus, waiting for his chance. Not quite the Stop Markus that he had kept seeing and hearing, but something that warmed his biocomponents with a sense of purpose. He scanned the area as he walked before identifying the now-familiar shape of the RK200. And North. And Simon. Josh was nowhere to be seen and a moment of concern went through him.
It was Hank who spoke as they approached, even if Connor was sure that Markus knew exactly where they were. “Markus,” he said, giving a nod to the leader of the Revolution. “Good to see you.”
“Good to see you too, Lieutenant Anderson,” Markus turned to face them, offering his hand to Hank. As it did, the Skin melted from the hand, an almost pointed look on Markus’ face. A challenge.
Connor watched as Hank, seemly not hesitating, reached out and took the hand to shake. His vitals remained steady, and a quick scan showed no trace of disgust. In fact, Hank gave that small, professional smile he had seen him use with witnesses. Human witnesses. “So what do you got?”
Connor stepped forward but did not reach to shake Markus’ hand. It wasn’t needed. This close, Markus could communicate with him non-verbally if he wished. Truth was, Connor was not comfortable with it. He had been created to work with humans and verbal communication was a large part of that. Although he also had sign language in his software, so just calling it verbal communication would be wrong.
Markus gave Hank a small smile, almost patient, but there was a pinched look on his face. “It’s difficult to explain. Come with me,” he said and turned, heading down the street.
“Cryptic,” Hank muttered as he looked at Connor before he followed, his long legs easily keeping up with Markus. If Hank was bothered by the various Androids shooting looks at him, he didn’t show it. Heart rate remained steady, same with his breathing. Connor wished he understood how the man could have such control when faced with hostility.
As long as it isn’t verbally pushed at him, Hank’s self-control is outstanding.
They were led to a small building clearly used for storage of biocomponents and limbs. It was why the limbs on the ground didn’t look out of place at first, especially to the human eye that couldn’t see the splatters and smears of dried thirium. He scanned the area, finding…
>>>Left leg PM700
>>>>Optical unit
>>>>>Human eyeball with nerve fibres
>>>>>>Human skin covering torso, left nipple missing
>>>>>>>Human heart replacing Thirium Pump, Thirium Regulator missing
He looked at Markus for a long moment before he knelt, reaching out to touch the torso. He followed the seam to where he could see the synthetic skin meeting the real one and disabled the Skin, getting access to the edge. Purple blood. He touched it and brought it to his lips, hearing Hank’s slight groan of disgust.
>>>DNA: Berringer, E.
>>>>Missing person
>>>>>Probability of being deceased: 100%
He stood and looked at Hank, watching him for a long moment before giving a small nod. Hank let out a breath and nodded, taking a step back. “Fuck,” he murmured, clearly understanding the look. It surprised Connor how much he understood, just by a look. That he was slowly developing this new language with Hank.
Partners.
“This is an active crime scene,” Hank said as he looked at Markus, with a frown. “We’re going to have to get forensic here and get any surveillance you have. We also need to interview those who found the body, and account for people’s movements.”
“We don’t keep track of people here,” Markus said firmly, but there was a hint of a nod at the tilt of his head. “They can come and go as they please. We do have some surveillance by the entrances, but mostly…New Jericho is about freedom.”
Hank grunted, giving a small nod. “Even so, we’ll need to interview people. It’s the way it is, Markus. Now anyone who wants a legal representative there during an interview can get one, not an issue. But I’ll need to talk to people. Connor too.”
Markus’ eyes went to Connor and for a moment, he almost looked troubled. “I will want to be present if Connor is interviewing people,” he said, before he looked over at Hank again. “To keep it fair.”
Hank’s blood pressure rose, his heart rate increased, and his skin reddened with increased blood flow. “You know, for a people all about breaking your programming and not being responsible for what you were made to do, you all seem to keep Connor’s programming against you,” he said, his voice oddly flat.
“It’s alright, Lieutenant,” Connor said as he looked at Markus, his features neutral. “I understand the situation.”
“Don’t make it right,” Hank muttered before he shook his head, the grey hair swaying with the force of it. “I’m going to call it in. Markus, anyone gives him grief…I am holding you responsible.” He turned and walked out, and Connor tilted his head. Hank was getting better at removing himself from situations where his temper may overcome him.
Most of the time.