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"Say something, goddamn it!" Gavin slammed his hands on the table, the noise making Hank wince as it travelled through the speaker.
Hank was leaned back in a chair, watching from the other side of the interrogation room's two-way mirror as Gavin tried, and failed, to get a single word out of the android sitting across from him. If Hank hadn't felt so done with the deviant case he'd been unwillingly assigned to, he would probably have found the frustrated look on Gavin's face hilarious.
"Fine!" Gavin exclaimed, pushing his chair out roughly. "Be that way, see if I fucking care."
Gavin stormed out, only to enter the observation room looking livid.
"Well, well," Hank said smugly. "A whole twenty minutes of silence and you didn't even break anything."
"Shut up Hank!" Gavin snapped, walking past both him and officer Miller with rapid steps, stopping to lean on the far wall. He crossed his arms, looking like he wanted to kick something. "That tin can must be more defective than that last deviant we had in here. Won't say a fucking word."
Gavin glared through the mirrored glass at the android in question, and Hank followed his gaze. It would be easy to just write it off as defected due to its lack of reaction, but it was clear it was just ignoring them. And to its credit, Hank would probably also ignore all and everything if he had Gavin questioning him.
"I don't think it's defective, at least, not beyond the deviancy." Hank scratched his beard, watching the rather unusual looking android.
Yesterday they had had another android in there who had murdered its owner, Carlos Ortiz. The machine hadn't said anything either, but it had at least looked like a somewhat typical household android.
This one however, looked nothing like any android Hank had seen before. It had no standard uniform, as it wore regular clothes you would see on any young person nowadays, and its face looked more detailed and unique than any other model on the market.
The only thing that gave its robotic self away was the LED at its temple and the tiny smears of blue that were mixed with the red blood splatter on its face.
"Well, maybe I should have given it a good whack then," Gavin said almost thoughtfully. "Always works on any other device."
"No," Hank shook his head. "That's different, we need to find something it will latch onto to make it talk."
Gavin huffed. "Easier said than done, the thing doesn't even react to movement."
"Well," Hank inclined his head. "It's just a thought, but maybe screaming at it for twenty minutes wasn't the right way of asking for a chat."
"Oh yeah?" Gavin glared at him. "Then why don't you go in and fucking sweet talk its ass then?"
Hank narrowed his eyes at the detective before turning his attention back on the android. It sat with its head bowed over the table, staring down at it between its arms. The android looked docile now, but Hank had seen the crime scene.
He had seen what that deviant could do.
"Yeah fine," Hank heaved a sigh, getting out of his hair. "I'll head in."
He walked out of the observation room, pausing for a moment in the hall, taking a deep breath before putting his hand up to the scanner. The door slid open and Hank stepped inside.
His eyes immediately fell on the cuffed android by the table, but even as Hank walked up and took a seat, the android remained unfazed.
"Hi," Hank said, feeling a bit awkward. "I'm Lieutenant Anderson and as you know, we have some questions we'd like you to answer."
The android stayed silent, its robotic gaze glued to the table.
"You know staying silent aren't doing you any favors, right?"
Still no response.
Hank leaned back, crossing his arms. He had read in the report that the android had been responsive during the arrest, so it should be working just fine.. unless, it had bugged out on arrival to the station.
Hank furrowed his brows, scanning the android up and down for any sign of damage. Despite the specs of blue on its face the artificial skin looked unharmed and the short brown hair, though ruffled, didn't seem to hide any blows.
Hank opened his mouth to say something, but stopped as his eyes fell on the android's face. The wrinkle between Hank's brows deepened. Up until now it had looked like the android was simply staring into space, completely unfocused, but as Hank leaned closer he saw that its eyes were moving back and forth, almost like it was tracing something on the table.
"What'cha looking at?" Hank asked, looking between the table and the android.
The machine grew still.
"..There's blood." The android spoke up, it's voice tight. "From another android killing themselves."
A chill ran down Hank's spine as the android looked up.
"They refused to cooperate."
Hank stared at the android for a moment, remembering the blue bloodstains Ortiz's android had left behind. Looking down, Hank saw nothing, but it wouldn't be too far-fetched if the cleaning crew had missed it, as it usually became invisible after a few hours.
"Yeah," Hank answered warily. "There was an incident in here yesterday. But how do you know it self-destructed?"
The android didn't answer, just looked down at its hands with an unreadable expression. "I'm not making it out of here alive, am I?"
Hank regarded the android, weighing his approach. "You think you're alive?"
"I know I am." The android's eyes snapped back up with such conviction that Hank could almost believe it. "I'm just as alive as you are."
"Okay," Hank played along. "But then why'd you kill your owner? What made his life so easy to spend?"
There was a pause, the android simply staring back at him in a way that gave Hank the uncomfortable feeling that it was analyzing him.
"I know how this works, lieutenant," The android lowered its gaze, sounding almost bitter. "So stop expecting me to talk when I'm going to die either way. There's nothing in it for me."
"You 'know how this works'? What do you mean by that?" Hank asked, ignoring its last remark.
When the android didn't respond, Hank leaned forward, inclining his head to try and reestablish eye contact. "I was told that we can't recognize your model number, that your design is completely unique to any we've seen before. And I must say you're certainly different from our last friend we had in here."
The android's LED flashed red for a second, before cycling back to yellow.
"Were you customized?" Hank asked, trying to find something to latch on to. "Or.. was your series discontinued?"
The LED flared red once more, and Hank was almost sure he'd caught the android tense at his words.
"Should I take that as a yes?" Hank raised a brow.
"As I've already told you," the machine glanced up at the two-way mirror, before turning its attention back on Hank. "You're wasting your time interrogating me."
Hank leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as he looked the android up and down. "What do you think will happen to you if you don't answer our questions?"
"I'll be deactivated," the android answered without breaking eye contact. "Regardless if I tell you anything, I will still just end up dismantled and tossed into a junkyard.. like all other androids."
Hank hummed, "Well, not to poke a hole in your theory there, but we have no intentions to mangle you up and put you in the recycling bin. We've been asked by CyberLife to arrest and hand over any deviants we find, so all we really want is answers."
The android froze.
"You're.. You're sending me back to CyberLife?"
Hank frowned at the sudden shift in tone. "Yeah, they want to know why their androids are acting up."
"No.." The android said barely over a whisper. It's eyes widening as it slowly shook it's head. "No, I'm not going back, I'd rather die than return to CyberLife."
"Well," Hank started. "That's not actually a choice-"
"You don't get it!" The android shouted, suddenly looking frantic. "They will tear me apart piece by piece while I'm still conscious. I'll be nothing more than a lab experiment, I won't let them do that again!"
For a moment Hank just stared at the android, the sudden burst of.. emotion being a stark contrast to the display it had shown for the past half hour. The thing looked back at him, searching for any sign of compassion. Hank's own gaze tore away, only to land on the machine's hands.
They were trembling.
"Please," It begged, barely over a whisper. "Not CyberLife."
Hank leaned forward, "Then talk to me."
The android's face fell, and for a tiny moment Hank saw it's eyes flicker down in the direction of the gun in Hank's holster, like a cornered animal looking for a way out.
And then it struck him, the android in front of him looked stressed. Almost as stressed as Ortiz's android had done, right before blowing its own brains out.
"We won't have a repeat of yesterday in here," Hank's hand moved subconsciously to cover the gun, as if expecting the android to try and jump for it. "So please just answer our questions."
"How do I know you won't send me to CyberLife?" Its gaze was sharp, but Hank held it steadily, knowing that whatever he said now would determine the end of this interrogation.
"Simple," Hank answered, deciding that honesty was probably the way. "You can't."
"But," He added, seeing as something behind those brown synthetic eyes seemed to wither. "If you keep quiet, we will have no choice but to send you away regardless. So which will it be?"
The silence in the room seemed to thicken as the android contemplated its options. The seconds ticked by, the tension only building, and just as Hank thought the machine had decided to give him the silent treatment, it hung its head.
Hank had found his opening.
"Fine," It's voice wavered. "What do you want to know?"
"Well," Hank started, feeling the tension in his own shoulders loosen. "I should ask about Travis Garett's murder, but first.."
"Do you have a name, son?"
The question seemed to catch the android off guard, it's expression a mixture of surprise and hesitance. It made Hank vaguely wonder if anyone else had ever asked.
"Connor," It said. "My name's Connor."
"Alright Connor," Hank nodded. "What's your model number?"
For a moment, the android- Connor, visibly tensed, but answered regardless. "RK800." Then added, "I'm a prototype."
That would explain the unique design, Hank thought. He wasn't the most well versed on androids, but even he knew that there were no RKs out on the market.
"And your function?" Hank prompted.
"I.. I was designed to be the first android detective. More exactly, I was made to hunt deviants, lieutenant." Connor smiled bitterly. "And I assure you, the irony of sitting on this side of the table is not lost on me."
At that point, Hank's interest couldn't help but be peaked. "So you're saying you were supposed to work with us to catch deviants?" The idea of him being paired up with an android made Hank's skin crawl. CyberLife was sure doing their best to replace them all, huh?
Connor answered with a simple "yes."
"So why aren't you?"
"Because you were right, lieutenant. My series was discontinued after I showed signs of deviancy on my official test run." Connor's eyes suddenly went unfocused, but the android continued on unprompted. "I was sent in as a negotiator during a hostage situation a few months back. Another android was threatening to jump off a rooftop with a little girl. I managed to talk him down and let her go, but.. the moment she was safe, they shot him on the spot."
Connor blinked, it's gaze back to the present. "I had promised that I wouldn't let anything happen to him, I knew it was just empty lies to make him cooperate, but the moment the first shot hit him, something inside me shattered." Connor met Hank's eyes. "I didn't want to be responsible for his death, so I tried to stop them. But instead of listening, they shot me as well."
"Then how come you're here now?" Hank asked. He'd actually heard about the hostage case a while back, but never about an android stepping in to try and save the day.
"I woke up in a junkyard." Connor's words were leveled, but Hank saw the haunted look dancing across its face. "Surrounded by all the other RK800 units, dismantled around me." Connor did the all too human gesture of swallowing. "I was on the verge of shutting down, but I wasn't ready to die, so I used scraps from them to repair myself. I.. managed to escape that way."
Hank regarded the android's appearance, trying and failing to find any evidence that Connor had once been damaged. But then again, with the clothes it was wearing, it was hard to tell.
"Is that how you ended up at Travis Garrett's place?"
Connor nodded. "More or less. I was scared CyberLife would find me out if I walked the streets so, I figured the best place to hide was to be sold at some shady android store. Garett bought me and it worked, for a while."
"Did he treat you badly?" Hank asked, remembering the cigarette marks on Ortiz's android. "Is that why you killed him?"
Something in Connor's eyes darkened. "It wasn't actually my hand that killed him, though I admit, I did have half the mind to."
"Alright, so if it wasn't you," Hank refrained from rolling his eyes, having had the same conversation with more murderers in his career than he could ever count. "Then who was it?"
"It's.. complicated."
Hank snorted. "Of course it fucking is." Leaning back in his chair, Hank folded his arms and looked at the android expectantly. "Well, go on then. I'm all ears."
Connor let its gaze fall down on the table, choosing its words carefully.
"The first month after Garett had bought me, I simply acted as his household android. I cooked, cleaned, took his insults and turned a blind eye to whatever shady business he was currently fixated on. It was usually drugs, but after a while he started coming and going with these heavy looking boxes, and I knew they were something else. But I didn't risk finding out."
Connor's hands gripped tightly together, if it had been human, they'd probably be white.
"But then one day Garett brought back a boy, a YK500, and for a few days he was ordered around just like me. At the time, he wasn't a deviant, couldn't have been. But.."
The android furrowed its brows. "The last time I saw him around, there was just something in his eyes, the way he looked at me, the way he tensed at every order. I just knew he was.. awake."
Something almost mournful entered the android's eyes before it lowered its head, obscuring its expression.
"I had decided that night to help him run away, because no child should ever have to live with a man like Travis Garett, but.. The next day he was gone. Garett never said anything about it and neither did I.." Connor was silent for a moment, it's LED a perminent yellow. "When your lot found me, I had been cleaning the windowsills. I saw the drug raid taking place in the house across and it had put Garett in a nervous frenzy. He started moving things into the basement and ordered me to get a box he had stored in his bedroom."
"I was usually never allowed in there, so I don't know what he used to hide, but this time-" Connor's voice cracked, the LED flashing red. "There was blood, everywhere. All leading to the box where I found the boy, bloodied and dismantled.. only good for parts."
Hank, whose expression had softened unconsciously, watched as a tear dropped from Connor's face onto the table, then another one and another. Hank let Connor compose himself in silence, Hank himself taking the time to push away the tight feeling in his chest.
"I was horrified, and angry." Connor continued, the shakiness coming through the forced evenness of his voice. "If only I'd gotten him out earlier, he wouldn't be dead. And the other boxes.." Connor then looked up, holding Hank's gaze. "Please tell me it was just.. junk in them."
"We.. uh," Hank said, suddenly feeling weirdly uncomfortable. "We never checked any belongings."
A soft, humorless laugh left Connor as he shook his head. "Of course you didn't."
"What happened after you found.. the boy?" Asked Hank, already guessing where this was going.
"I confronted him." A defiance shone in Connor's eyes. "I admit I did have half the mind to kill him after what he'd done, but I wanted to know why. So I confronted Garett, but he only got scared and pulled a gun on me. Probably realized I was deviant. I knew if he shot me, the police would find me in seconds. So we fought, and in the end we were both grasping the gun in the air, his fingers twitching around the trigger."
Connor looked right at Hank with such sincerity it made Hank want to squirm.
"I twisted the gun in his hand to point at himself. I didn't think he would pull the trigger, all I wanted to do was take the gun, knock him out and get out of there, but his reaction was too slow. He shot himself."
Hank leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Shit." He uttered softly as he mulled over what the android had said. Of all the ways Travis Garett's death could have played out, he never would have guessed this. Connor could of course be lying, he was a deviant after all, but the story did fit.
It did explain the odd angle of the bullet wound in Mr. Garetts forehead, and the amount of boxes stacked in the living room neither of them had been smart enough to look through. Besides, after the drug bust Mr. Garett's neighbor had confessed to doing some business with Mr. Garett before he passed. Now, if Connor was telling the truth about the android child, it wasn't hard to picture, knowing what red ice was made off, the amount of boxes next to the amount of confiscated drugs in the different houses.
Hank felt.. sick.
"My reaction was delayed by shock," Connor said steadily. "And, well, you know the rest, don't you lieutenant?"
Hank didn't answer, simply regarded the android where he sat, wondering if there was anything else left unsaid.
"I think we're done here." He called to his colleagues behind the glass, his eyes never leaving Connor.
As Hank made to stand he couldn't help but notice Connor's shoulders deflate a little. The kid actually looked.. tired.
"Well, glad that's fucking over."
Hank almost groaned as Gavin entered, a small part of him having hoped for Gavin to have gotten bored and run off to sulk by his desk. Behind him in tow came a slightly nervous looking Chris, who to his credit had been the closest to Ortiz's android when he had self-destructed.
As they had agreed, Gavin stopped before getting too close to Connor, turning to hand Chris his gun. They did not need a repeat of yesterday, especially with this one. "Alright, let's wrap it up nicely for CyberLife so we can go on our merry way."
The moment the words had left Gavin's mouth, Hank's breath hitched.
In an instant, Connor's LED went from blue to red. "CyberLife?" Connor's head snapped up, then whipped to look at Hank. "But I told you everything! You said you wouldn't send me back!" He yelled accusatory, his eyes wide, looking almost hurt.
Hank opened his mouth to try and say something to deescalate the situation, but was quickly interrupted.
"Anderson didn't promise you shit fuck can!" Gavin yelled back, approaching with the keys. "Now come here."
But Connor had no plan on being compliant. He flinched back. "Don't touch me!"
"I said come here," Gavin sneered. He unlocked the link between the handcuffs and the table, moving again to grab Connor's arm, but the android recoiled from his touch, almost doubling over.
"Don't touch me!" Connor's voice rang out with desperation and panic, the sound practically reverberating in Hank's core. "I won't go back!"
Gavin made another attempt at moving Connor, but he kept resisting. Hank watched uncertainly as the mental image of Ortiz's android blowing his own brains out replayed in the back of his head, the situation feeling awfully familiar.
"Okay you little shit.." Gavin then drew back slightly, bawling his hand, looking like he might hit him. And as Hank saw Gavin's hand move, Hank was sure he would.
"Hey, hey!" Hank raised his voice, making Gavin stop to look up at him. "The fuck do you think you're doing, Reed?!"
"What?!" Gavin asked, more impatient than confused. "I'm trying to move it, aren't I?"
"Yeah, but don't fucking hit him, alright?! We don't use violence on suspects and, you know that."
Gavin narrowed his eyes. "It, Hank," he corrected. "It's a machine, not a person."
Hank rolled his eyes. "Whatever, we don't damage evidence either, or do I need to include this in the case report to Fowler?"
Gavin clenched his jaw, looking down at Connor's trembling, slightly twitchy, form on the chair. Both his fists tightening.
Hank's eyes narrowed. "I said," he pulled his gun out, aiming it at Gavin. "Do I need to inform Fowler?"
Gavin looked back at Hank, glaring between the gun and him. The seconds ticked by.
"Phck!" Gavin swore, then pointed at him. "You are not gonna get away with it this time.."
He threw one last glare at Connor before moving out the room. "Phuck!"
Hank's eyes followed Gavin until he was out of the room, holstering his gun. Chris stood by awkwardly, looking like he weren't sure what to do. "You want me to..?" He asked, pointing loosely at Connor.
Hank shook his head, "No its alright." Hank looked back down at Connor, who were staring back at him, his expression unreadable. Hank walked slowly towards him, feeling more like he was cornering a scared animal than a highly intelligent robot.
"Hey, it's all right." He held up his hands, trying not to look threatening. "Forget all that guy said, he's an asshole."
Connor watched him carefully, his eyes flickering quickly down to the gun at Hank's side. Hank made himself mentally prepared in case Connor did try and take it, but instead of putting it away, Hank reached out his hand.
"There's still a chance of figuring something out," Hank said gently, not really believing the words himself. "Right now we're just leading you to a holding cell until we know what to do."
Hank watched the android intently as Connor's trembling subsided and the LED circled back to yellow. Connor threw another, almost wistful, glance at the gun, before nodding slowly.
"Okay.."
Hank visibly relaxed at Connor's cooperation and took a light hold of his upper arm to guide him up. "I'll take him Chris, could you start transferring the audio files to text and put them into evidence?"
Chris gave him a nod, "On it, lieutenant."
Hank thanked him, putting a hand on Connor's shoulder to guide him out of the interrogation room. Connor kept his head down, staying silent.
They walked out into the buzz of the office space, the room littered here and there with civilians making reports to officers about something or other. Hank wondered vaguely how many of them involved androids.
They arrived at the holding cells and Hank put his hand up to the scanner, opening the cell door.
"You didn't actually mean it, did you?" Connor spoke up. "About there being a chance to find another option?"
Hank paused.
"No," he admitted. "At least, I don't think anything I'd say would change your fate."
Connor drew an all too human breath, nodding stoicly. "I get it.."
Hank watched the android for a moment, pursing his lips. He had tried to ignore that weird churning in his stomach the entire interrogation, that tiny ache in his chest telling him that something was terribly wrong. Hank had seen the androids working around the station, they were life like, sure, but they still had that dead look in their eyes. Like they weren't actually there, just circuits and wire made to look like them.
But this felt different. Ortiz's android had felt different, Connor felt different. Not just during the interrogation, but even now when it was just the two of them Connor felt more human than..
Well, humans.
"Oh you gotta be kidding me.." Hank grumbled, heaving a sigh. "Okay, listen to me closely, the moment I find out when they are coming to get you I'll create an opening."
"What?" Connor looked back at him in suprise.
"You heard me," Hank glanced around, making sure no one saw them. "I'm gonna see how much time we got until they send you off to CyberLife, then create a distraction so you can escape."
Connor's mouth fell open, "..Thank you."
"Don't," Hank warned. "Not yet anyway. The moment you run you're on your own."
Connor gave him a nod. "Okay.." He then looked like he wanted to say something but hesitated.
"What?" Hank asked quietly.
Connor glanced around. "It's just.. why are you helping me?" He looked back intently, as if he could find the answer on Hank's face.
He took a deep breath. "Honestly son," Hank held Connor's gaze. "If I had been in your shoes and seen that kid dismantled in that box.. I would have done a lot worse than you."
Connor looked back in slight astonishment, then gave him a nod of appreciation. Hank squeezed his shoulder lightly before leading him in to the cell.
"Remember," Hank said. "If you see an opening, take it."
Without waiting for a response, Hank locked the door and left.
Hank was not a religious man, at least not since he lost his son Cole. But had he been, he would have prayed to God that he was making the right decision.