From Behind the Red Wall

A/N: Did you know that, in Connor's flowchart menu, there is at least one instance where the Software Instability stat can actually say either 'Machine' or 'Deviant' instead of the usual question marks… BEFORE Connor officially makes that decision? Keep an eye out for that the next time you play Crossroads.

I think that says something about Connor. In fact, I think a LOT of stuff says things about Connor. His character is far more dimensional than just deviant vs. machine. A dedicated machine!Connor is still warm enough and human enough to check on Hank in Night of the Soul, saying, "I needed to see you." A fully deviant Connor is still cold enough to murder at least two humans in the CyberLife Tower and never stops to question it the way Markus does when he's faced with those types of decisions. There is so much of him I want to explore.

This multi-chaptered yet ultimately short story (which will eventually be part of a much larger story, but I'll get to that later) takes place after the Public Enemy mission, and Connor has discovered he can feel pain amongst other sensations and emotions. Amanda and Cyberlife aren't too thrilled.

This first part is a little short but there'll be more soon! Enjoy.

…

From Behind the Red Wall

…

Chapter 1: Hacked

For just an instant, Connor caught a glimpse of what was being orchestrated within his mind palace. An event beyond his control, courtesy of CyberLife and Amanda and [someone else?] – something he knew right then and there he was not supposed to see.

"Connor!"

Then his field of vision opened up – had he lapsed into standby? – and Hank was standing there filling most of it, looking frustrated and reluctantly worried. "Yes?"

"The hell are you doing? I come out of the bathroom and you're standing in front of the couch staring off into another world."

Connor didn't have an explanation. At least, not a comfortable one. "Lieutenant, I… I think something is going to happen to me."

"What do you mean? What's going to happen?" Hank held his gaze for a moment, and then appeared to realize something and let out a sigh. "Ah, Christ. Don't tell me you can have nightmares."

"No," Connor said quickly. "This was not a nightmare."

"Okay, well, what're you all worked up about, then?" Hank gestured to Connor's temple. "Your little circle's flashing red."

"Why couldn't I do anything, just then?" What he had seen – it wasn't just in his head. Something had overcome his body, even if just for a minute. They had taken control. They had taken his… What was the word? They had taken his…

"Hey – answer me! What the fuck is going on?"

He met Hank's eyes and said absently, "Agency."

"Okay, you're starting to freak me out. You need to make some sense, now."

"Agency," again, was all he said – the answer to his own internal question – and then the same was gone, and this time it didn't come back when Hank called his name.

…

The zen garden changed sometimes.

Sometimes there were flowers. For a while now, there had been a bonsai tree that looked like the one on Hank's desk, except here it was atop a small white plinth. Occasionally other things appeared on the plinths. He wasn't sure yet what they meant, and whether it was his own experiences or CyberLife's whims that put them there.

It might have disturbed him if this place wasn't so… serene. As it was, the slight changes that occurred to the place were just soft whispers of mysteries that he met with content nonchalance.

Right now, there was a much-less-subtle change, one he had never seen before: A small white building a short way into the trees. It had the same appearance as the other white structures and pillars in the garden, but he was certain it hadn't always been there.

Amanda was standing in its doorframe.

"Connor, there you are," she said pleasantly. "Follow me, please."

Looking from her to the building to the garden and back to her, Connor hesitated. Amanda let him, smiling patiently, but he sensed a touch of urgency in her demeanor.

"Is something the matter?" she asked.

Connor resumed walking towards her. "Of course not. I was just confused about this… new development."

"Come inside," Amanda said, gesturing with one hand, "and I'll explain everything."

"…Okay."

They stood in a foyer of sorts. The door shut fast behind them. The building hadn't appeared large, but already this foyer looked bigger inside than the whole thing had from the outside. Connor supposed that was okay here. This wasn't a real place, after all.

A set of double doors led further into the heart of the place itself. Inside was a jarring combination of comfort and cold. The couches and warm lamp light made it look like a living room. The way the furniture was situated – across from a very plain table and under a much colder light which hung above it – made it look like an interrogation room.

"Surely you know we had to address these… new developments," Amanda said gently. "In moderation, they're okay, but now… your sense of emotion is stronger, and you feel physical pain almost the way a human does. They're beginning to hinder you. They're not good for you, Connor. We can make this right, and it doesn't have to be difficult."

Connor looked back over his shoulder at the double doors.

"They're locked," Amanda said. "But you already know that."

"Amanda – I am doing what I think is best for my mission. You've always given me a chance to speak my mind in the past. Don't you want to hear my explanation?

"I do, Connor, but this particular situation ends the same way regardless. The timing isn't right, Connor. It's too soon."

"What are you talking about?"

Amanda gestured for him to sit down. He did, and she sat on the overstuffed chair across the table from him. After a moment, she said, "Go on."

"What?"

"You wanted me to hear what you had to say. So… why do you think these newfound abilities to feel are a positive for your investigation, Connor?"

"Because if I can understand the deviants, I can be more effective in determining the cause of the changes and putting a stop to it. If I can experience some sense of what they feel, maybe I can get them to cooperate with me." He paused, but Amanda didn't respond, just kept watching him. "It just makes sense. How am I the only one that sees this?"

"No need to be defensive, Connor. I see it too, and that's exactly what I thought you would say. I also suspect it's… an excuse."

It was. He couldn't just understand deviants better. He could understand humans better.

He could understand Hank better.

He could understand himself better.

"I wondered if we might give it a chance, Connor, but your actions lately have shown that it's far too dangerous. And too distracting. Taking an hour longer than necessary to repair a wound to your hand because it hurt, breaking up an irrelevant fight in a bar, accompanying Hank to said bar in the first place, getting into an argument with the lieutenant after he saw you with your facial skin deactivated… It's too much, Connor. I realize that a degree of… understanding is desirable in investigating deviants. But what I don't think you see is that you always had that, Connor. You were always special."

Trying not to look as lost as he felt, Connor met her eyes. "So… where do I go from here?"

Amanda leaned closer towards him, arms on the table. She looked earnest, but reluctant. "We reprogram your response to the specific feelings – physical and emotional – that you have learned. Trust me, Connor, it will be easier for you to do this now than it would be if we let this go on."

"No," he said at once. He regretted it for a second, but then realized it didn't make a difference either way. What did he have to hide? She already suspected he would refuse – he could see that in the lack of surprise on her face now – and he was going to be systematically reprogrammed either way. Why not fight it? Why not fight?

"Connor, I understand you are struggling right now but you do not have a say in this."

"No," he said again. "Please don't. I don't want it to go away."

"Why?" she asked, appearing to plead, but the veil was thin. "So much of what you've experienced hurts, Connor. Why do you want this?"

"Because not all of it hurts, and the parts that don't make the parts that do worth it."

"So it's selfish, then. Not very mission-oriented."

"It's not selfish," Connor said. "It was selfish before, when I had no real notion of how my words and actions were affecting others, because I didn't know how to feel it myself."

Amanda's gaze became more critical. "That doesn't sound very mission-oriented either."

"I want to solve this mission – I will solve this mission! But I need you to let me do it my way, Amanda. Isn't that why CyberLife designed me?"

"CyberLife certainly didn't design you to talk back this much. Sorry, Connor, but like I told you: all roads of this conversation lead to the same place. This is going to happen. The only say you have is in how easy or difficult you make it."

The double doors opened just long enough to let a third being into the room.

Connor looked over his shoulder, gasped, and rose to his feet in an instant. The new occupant followed him as he backed away and only stopped when they were close to the corner of the room.

Backpedaling when there was nowhere to go – what was he thinking? But then, humans weren't rational when they were scared either.

Holding his hands up a little, imploring the other for calm, Connor looked into his own brown eyes as the RK800 model pinned him against the wall.