Chapter One

"First day back on the job," said Hank, shrugging on his coat. "How does it feel?"

Connor tilted his head. He searched his systems to discern his feelings. Three months had passed since Markus's peaceful uprising, yet Connor still found himself analyzing different emotions. Some were easier to identify than others, but more often than not, Connor confronted more than one emotion at a time. Hank had assured him that this was normal, but Connor still felt that more than one emotion at a time complicated his ability to identify them. Hank had chuckled at Connor's comment, stating flatly, "Welcome to humanity, kid. Told you emotions always screw things up."

After the uprising, androids had found themselves struggling to establish cooperation with the humans. Despite the evacuation, many humans chose to remain in Detroit. Markus thus far had managed to establish diplomacy with the humans, though the notion of paying androids for their work had taken longer to pass. So, Connor had been without a job for three months until that Monday, when Captain Fowler told Hank to bring Connor with him to work. The Detroit Police Department officially hired Connor, along with many of the other androids who had worked there prior to the uprising. Connor had spent the week taking the required tests (Fowler insisted on the formality) to join the force. Today, however, was Connor's first official day as a detective.

Connor returned to Hank's question, his brow furrowing as he considered his feelings. Hank had purchased him an emotion thesaurus, a book meant for writers, to help Connor understand his feelings. It had helped to a degree, but the reality was that androids felt a bit differently than humans, due to biocomponents rather than organs. Nevertheless, Connor went over the things he had read to identify his emotions.

His biocomponents seemed to quiver and his core temperature had risen a few degrees. Connor had identified these symptoms as anxiety. His thirium pump regulator beat at an escalated rate as well. While this could be attributed to anxiety, Connor did not feel agitated by the feeling. He knew this to be excitement.

Connor turned to Hank with a soft smile. "I'm looking forward to it, though I do have some reservations."

"Reservations?" Hank asked, looking around the kitchen.

Connor knew that the lieutenant sought his car keys and walked over to the counter, reached behind the coffee pot, and grabbed the keys. "You really should hang up your keys by the door, lieutenant. That would make them easier to find."

"What's with the 'lieutenant' shit? You don't need to call me that," Hank took the keys from Connor's extended hand. "C'mon, don't wanna be late your first day."

Connor dipped his head. He patted Sumo's head in farewell before following Hank out the front door. The last week of January had greeted Detroit with fresh snow, so Connor insisted on driving. He climbed into the driver's seat while Hank grumbled and slid into the passenger side. Connor backed out of the driveway and headed for the police station.

"So? What reservations you got?" Hank prompted, folding his arms.

"Oh," said Connor, the corners of his mouth dropping, "I suppose I am anticipating my colleagues' responses to my being there as a paid employee, rather than just a machine."

"You're worried what other people will think?" Hank sounded mildly incredulous.

Connor tilted his head. "Yes, I suppose."

"Don't concern yourself with the thoughts of others," said Hank, "people will always have opinions. The only ones who matter are those close to you. Got it?"

"Got it," Connor affirmed. However, he wasn't sure he did "get it."

They arrived at the precinct, where Connor parked in Hank's designated spot. Together, they entered the building. Connor followed Hank to the bullpen. The other officers paid him no mind, though Officer Chris Miller dipped his head in greeting as he walked past. Connor's thirium regulator seemed to sink a little. He supposed he expected a little more congratulation from his colleagues, but he also didn't blame them. Androids as living beings was a difficult concept for humans (even for some androids), so the reality of androids working for payment must seem even stranger. Connor took a seat at his desk across from Hank.

"Do we have a case?"

Hank raised an eyebrow at Connor. "Are you kidding?"

Connor's eyebrows pulled together. "No."

"We'll get one when we get one," said Hank, "just wait."

Connor's posture relaxed in his seat. Just wait. Connor's new objective blinked in the corner of his eye.

Connor ended up waiting for the rest of the week for an android-human related case to arrive. He and Hank entered the station on time and waited, working on reports in the meantime, until that evening. Fowler called them into his office, looking a bit pale.

"Just got a call from Jericho," said Fowler, pacing his office. "They've got a hostage situation."

Connor frowned as his chest tightened. A hostage situation? How did someone manage to do that? "Has the assailant made any demands?"

"No," said Fowler, "and the media doesn't know yet. I wanna keep it that way. From what I know, it's some human woman. She's got an android at gunpoint and seems mentally unstable. That's all I know."

Connor dipped his head. He turned to Hank, who blew out a breath, puffing out his cheeks. Hank met Connor's gaze and shrugged. "Well, you wanted some action, didn't ya?"

The drive to the new headquarters of Jericho was short but tense. Connor led the way inside. An android told them to take the elevator to the thirtieth floor. As the elevator took Connor and Hank up, Connor withdrew his coin.

Hank let out a sigh but didn't snatch the coin away. "How do you wanna play this?"

Connor frowned. "We need to gather as much information as we can. I'll approach the assailant. You see if you can get any bystanders to safety."

"I'm not leaving you to deal with this on your own," Hank snapped.

"Then see if you can find a vantage point if the assailant needs to be taken down," instructed Connor.

"You think you can talk them down?"

"I want to try."

"Okay," said Hank, "but I don't like our odds."

Connor calculated their odds.

/Probability of Success: 7%/

"Neither do I."

The elevator dinged with their arrival to the thirtieth floor. Markus greeted them immediately. "It's North, she's… I should've stopped this."

"This isn't your fault," said Connor.

Markus rubbed his head. "It happened so fast."

"Where are they?" Hank queried, looking around.

"In my office," said Markus, gesturing in the direction of said room. "She said she came here to kill me, but she hasn't tried to do anything. She just has North."

"She hasn't made any other demands?" Connor queried.

Markus shook his head. "None. Everyone who works this floor is hiding in the storage room on the other side, so they're safe… But I couldn't leave North."

"Understandable," said Hank. "Is there a vantage point or something? We might need to take her out."

Markus shook his head. "She'll see you coming; the walls are made of glass."

"Damn," muttered Hank.

Connor ran a statistical diagnostic.

/Probability of Success: 12%/

Their odds were still poor, but Connor knew they would drop again if he didn't start negotiating soon. He turned to Hank and Markus. "I'm going to try talking with her. Markus, you should stay out of sight. Hank, you should come with me but stay behind me."

"Stay behind you?" Hank growled.

"Your presence might upset her, but she'll see you coming anyway, and we can't not have a gun on her."

"Fine. But for the record, I don't like you taking the fire."

"I'm easier to repair than you are, Hank," Connor reminded the lieutenant with a small smile. He led the way to Markus's office, Hank following. Connor adjusted his tie beneath his Kevlar. Hank wore one, too. But vests didn't protect from headshots. Connor held up his hands and entered the office.

The woman holding North at gunpoint was not what Connor expected. She was slightly shorter than North, with dark red hair that reached her shoulders. She did not seem unstable like Daniel had been. She flinched every so often, but other than that, she seemed collected and cold. She narrowed her eyes when Connor and Hank entered the room. Her eyes flicked to the gun in Hank's hands before meeting Connor's gaze.

Connor initiated a facial recognition scan of the woman.

/Error: No Match Found/

Connor's brow pinched slightly. It was extremely rare to come across people who did not show up in facial recognition data, as all citizens were supposed to be subjected to it. However, in some cases, such as in trained operatives and foreigners, it was not entirely unusual.

"You're the only cops they sent?" The woman had an American accent, so Connor ruled out her being from a different country.

"We handle human and android related cases," said Connor.

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Small division, huh?"

"We're new," snapped Hank.

Connor glanced toward his partner, pursing his lips slightly before turning back to the woman. "My name is Connor. This is Hank. We just want to talk."

The woman snorted. "Talking isn't going to help."

"Why the fuck not?" Hank barked.

Connor shot another warning glare at his partner. Hank ignored him. Connor looked back at the woman and calculated a statistical analysis.

/Probability of Success: 11%/

"You should've sent more cops," said the woman, shaking her head. "I'm hard to kill."

Connor stiffened. /Suspect has suicidal tendencies?/

"What's your name?" Connor queried, stepping closer, hands still raised.

The woman frowned at him. "Wren."

"Wren," Connor tried, "I just want to talk. Can we do that for a few minutes?"

"What's the point?" Wren said coldly.

/Probability of Success: 10%/

"Help me understand why you're doing this. North has done nothing wrong," Connor said gently, stepping forward.

/Probability of Success: 15%/

Wren's eyes flicked to North before returning to meet Connor's. "This isn't the first time I've hurt someone innocent."

Connor took a moment to process this information. Perhaps Wren felt guilty, which was why she wanted to die. He decided to press about North. "You want Markus dead, but you took North, not him. Why?"

"My mission is to neutralize Markus."

/Probability of Success: 14%/

Connor froze. My mission is to neutralize the leader of the deviants. He took another step forward. "You're an assassin?"

"Of sorts," said Wren, wincing.

/Probability of Success: 23%/

"Did CyberLife send you to kill Markus?" Connor queried.

Wren shook her head, her eyelids fluttering as she grimaced. She seemed pained.

/Probability of Success: 21%/

"Why take North, Wren? You had every opportunity to accomplish your mission, yet you chose to take a hostage. Why?" Connor asked quietly, daring to take another small step forward.

"I… I don't want to kill Markus," Wren breathed. Tears welled in her eyes.

/Probability of Success: 34%/

Connor frowned as Wren flinched again. Her eyes flashed open. "Please, you have to kill me to stop me."

Connor's brow pinched. "I don't think you want to die. You would've tried something to get one of us to shoot you."

/Probability of Success: 31%/

Wren laughed, though it was a bitter sound. "I don't want to die, I have to. Please. I can't fight it much more."

"Fight what?" demanded Hank.

Wren turned her head and grimaced, as though she had a headache. "My… programming…" She spat the words out through gritted teeth.

/Probability of Success: 31.5%/

Connor stilled. Programming? He narrowed his eyes and ran a scan of her. She had a normal heart and other vital organs. Yet there was something strange about her that sent Connor's eyebrows straight up.

"Are you some sort of prototype assassin android?" Hank questioned.

"Not exactly," said Wren.

Connor closed his mouth. He needed to stop gaping at her and help North. He stepped toward Wren and North again. A few bounds and he could tackle them to the floor, but he didn't want to resort to violence just yet. "Let us help you," Connor murmured, "Let North go and we can talk."

"I can't!" Wren cried. She pointed the gun at him and shot him in the shoulder. Connor fell to the floor with a grunt. "Kill me before I kill you!" Wren clutched her head, her eyes squeezed shut. The gun was no longer pointed at North's temple. North shoved away from Wren and hurried to where Hank stood. Hank pulled the trigger, shooting Wren in the shoulder. She let out a cry and fell to the floor. Connor hurried and snatched Wren's gun away from her. Hank hurried over, peering down at Wren.

"Holy shit," Hank breathed.

Connor found the sentiment suitable for the situation. He looked down at Wren's left shoulder, eyes wide. Half of the wound in Wren's shoulder was bleeding red while the other half bled blue. Connor was aware of two other presences behind him, but he was too stunned by the blood and thirium pouring out of Wren to look at them.

Wren was still conscious. Her eyes peered up at someone behind Connor. She panted and sweat sheened her forehead. Markus crouched down beside Connor and reached out for Wren's hand. Markus's synthetic skin disappeared to reveal his true android skin. He touched Wren's hand. Connor's eyes widened and his lips parted when Wren's hand mimicked Markus's, synthetic skin peeled back to reveal white plastic.

"You're free now," said Markus gently, withdrawing his hand.

Wren gazed up at him, tears leaking from her eyes. "Thank you…" Her head lolled to the side, and she fell unconscious.

Connor called for an ambulance and worked to staunch the bleeding. Hank took Markus and North's official statements. Markus insisted that he didn't want to press charges but would like to speak with Wren once she was able. Hank agreed, though Connor wasn't sure that was something they could promise. The ambulance arrived promptly and took Wren to the nearest hospital. Connor and Hank followed in their car.

They decided to wait for news, as they couldn't leave Wren unattended. Connor's mental processor worked in overdrive with questions. What was Wren? Who was Wren? Why had she caused such a scene? Had she purposefully failed her mission? So why couldn't she put the gun down? Why did she insist on dying?

"Guess I'm gonna be the one to say it," said Hank.

Connor furrowed his brow and looked at his partner. "Say what?"

"Well, more like ask…" Hank muttered. He scrunched his lips together before looking at Connor with a knitted brow. "Did we just meet a cyborg?"

A/N: Hello! I really should be working on my other fics, but DBH dragged me into this before I could stop it, so, here I am. I'm hoping that this will be a trilogy series, but that's ahead of the game right now. For now, I hope you all enjoy this slow burn of Connor x OC. I would've started writing this sooner, but I wanted to get a basic outline of the plot and characters down.

Please leave a review!