Author's Note: Just wanted to say thank you so much for all the wonderful support for this fic! I really appreciate you giving it a chance. It's been a lot of fun exploring Hank and Connor's characters and stories, so I'm glad you guys are enjoying it, too. Hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

[UPDATE 11/28/19: Made a few edits and moved a small portion of Chapter 6's bar conversation to a future chapter, as I felt it fit better in that context.]

[UPDATE 3/30/20: Hello, friends! So, unfortunately, this update does not come with a new chapter just yet, as I got sidetracked by work recently (I work at a university, and the transition to online classes in response to this pandemic has been crazy!), so I just haven't had the time to write/edit. However, things are starting to calm down on that front, so I'm finally working on the rest of Chapter 8 now. It should be done soon! :D Hope you're all safe and doing well!]

The next thing that Hank learned about androids was that they could be deviant and not know it. Or, in Connor's case, they could be deviant and fervently deny it, even to themselves.

Of course, for a good while, Hank didn't know for sure that Connor truly was deviant, but he definitely showed some signs. The only thing that prevented him from calling him one with absolute certainty was the fact that he sometimes gave him reasons to doubt it, particularly with how his emotions were much more restrained than deviants' were, as well as how focused he was on his mission to stop them.

Was it possible to be half-deviant? Almost-deviant?

Either way, the almost-deviant hadn't shown much of anything that morning to prove Hank's theory. His face was impassive as he watched the latest news on his terminal, unaffected by his fellow androids' efforts.

It turned out that they hadn't seen the last of those 'rogue androids.' The night before, only hours after their broadcast demanding equal rights, a group of them—probably the same ones as before—had set out to break into local CyberLife stores and 'free' all the other androids there.

The deviants had the foresight to cut off security access before they hit the stores, so there wasn't any footage of the raids themselves, but the DPD had dispatched a few drones not long after the CyberLife security system was disabled. Connor (unsurprisingly) managed to get access to that footage, so Hank made his way over to his desk to watch it with him, morbidly curious of what he might see.

It was a strange sight. Capitol Park was nearly unrecognizable—not just because it was devoid of its usual bustling crowd, but because of how it was transformed. Cars were moved aside to block the street. Some of the screens that usually showed off CyberLife ads were hacked to repeat the deviant's speech from earlier that day. Benches, walls, and windows were covered in holographic graffiti, alternating from pro-android phrases to repeated images of some kind of broken circle, similar to the distinguishing LED on an android's temple. The same symbol appeared to cover the entire face of one of the buildings like a giant flag.

After yesterday's big stunt, Hank had assumed that these deviants would lay low for a while before facing the public again—but clearly, they weren't willing to hide anymore. Now that their intentions were out in the open, they were trying their damnedest to keep it that way. They wanted to be seen and heard.

And they were, now that the media had latched onto their actions. They had been reporting about the deviants nonstop, labeling last night's raids as nothing short of a terrorist attack, because the fact that the raids were covert, nonviolent protests was eclipsed by the fact that they were protesting anything at all. Obedient machines doing anything but obeying was essentially an act of terror in itself.

Also... they broke a few windows.

"The deviant leader was suspected to be among the androids at Capitol Park," said Connor. "It should be around here somewhere."

The drone swept over to an adjacent street as all the deviants there began to run away. Its camera caught sight of one of them standing still in the middle of the chaos and zoomed in on his face. He already knew it was there, gazing directly at it with narrowed eyes. Eyes of two different colors.

Bingo.

"That's our guy, huh?"

Connor nodded. "That's our guy."

He fell silent, staring at the image with an unreadable expression. Hank wondered what was going through his head.

He returned his attention to the footage as the drone panned over to one of the adjacent roads. Just as it arrived, it captured the image of deviants suddenly collapsing onto the asphalt, shot dead by the arriving police. The genuinely terrified screams of the living deviants realizing what was happening made Hank's heart jump to his throat.

"Fuck," he breathed as the camera swept across the fallen androids. "That's a lot of bodies."

"They're just… broken machines, Lieutenant." Connor's go-to response sounded a little less certain than usual.

Hank wasn't so certain, either.

Connor was technically right, of course. Regardless of how they thought or acted, these deviants were technically just machines—but these machines were also more intelligent and self-aware than either of them gave them credit for. Just machines didn't think like these deviants did. As far as Hank knew (he'd been wrong before), they didn't think at all.

But did the intelligence of these deviants really make them as 'alive' as they kept declaring? He didn't know. He couldn't even pretend to understand the science or philosophy behind what truly made something alive... But now, after all he had learned and all that was happening today, he had to admit that it was getting hard to see them as anything but.

Somehow, calling them 'just machines' didn't feel right anymore.

"It's a unique model," said Connor out of the blue, interrupting his rumination.

Hank blinked at him. "What?"

"That android... The one that made the speech." Connor wasn't looking at the footage anymore, but he also wasn't looking Hank in the eye. "It's an RK200 model, given the name 'Markus.'"

"RK." Hank recognized the familiar letters as the same ones printed on Connor's jacket. "He's one of you?"

Connor couldn't quite hide his small grimace, as though he'd been hoping Hank wouldn't notice. "In a way. It's an earlier RK model, but it's the only one of its kind. A prototype."

So that was why Connor had been so hesitant to tell him this back at Stratford Tower… He couldn't have been keen on admitting that he had anything in common with arguably the most deviant-est deviant there was.

"Huh. Why's it the only one?"

"It was likely specialized for its owner's needs. It was given to a famous artist as a gift from Elijah Kamski."

The idea of an android being given as a gift always made Hank slightly uncomfortable even back when he knew nothing about them, but that discomfort was doubled now that he knew just how cognizant of everything this 'Markus' was. He wondered how long he had been deviant before deciding to make that speech.

"Kamski," he echoed, the name finally hitting him. "That sounds familiar."

"He was the founder of CyberLife."

Ah. Hank recalled seeing that name in all sorts of articles and news stories that talked about CyberLife's latest escapades. He always hated them.

"Okay, so... Why are you bringing this up?"

"Kamski was also the creator of the first CyberLife androids. It's possible that he may know something about deviancy as a result." Connor looked at him intently. "He may even know something about Jericho."

Hank knew what he was getting at. "You know how to reach him?"

It didn't take long for Connor to find the number, but when Hank called it, a CyberLife representative answered instead, then transferred him to a different representative, who transferred him to an assistant. He wasn't surprised; he doubted that this billionaire hotshot inventor-or-whatever would allow himself to be contacted so easily.

Which, of course, didn't bode well for someone who fucking hated talking on the phone.

"Hi, uh, I'm Lieutenant Hank Anderson, calling from the Detroit Police Department." He absentmindedly sat down on the edge of Connor's desk, earning a curious glance from Connor. "I'm investigating a case involving deviant androids and was wondering if there's a way to contact Mr. Kamski for information."

He couldn't tell if the voice that replied was human or android. He guessed it didn't matter.

"One moment, please."

The pleasant voice was replaced by muffled jazz music. It wasn't even the good kind.

Hank scowled, glancing down at Connor. "They put me on hold again."

Connor straightened in his seat. "They might be more willing to speak to another CyberLife representative. I could try to—"

Almost as quickly as the voice left, it returned, drowning out Connor's suggestion. Hank abruptly shushed him, waving him away.

"I apologize, sir, but Mr. Kamski is not available to receive any calls at the moment," said the voice on the line. "However, I can relay your request to him once I am able to contact him. Would that work for you?"

I guess.

Hank sighed as he hung up.

"He's 'not available.'" He made air quotes with his fingers. "They'll call me back later."

Knowing how rich snobs lived, he was sure 'not available' meant that he was too busy relaxing in a jacuzzi or some shit.

He grabbed the empty coffee cup from his desk and grunted as he got to his feet. He was a little less sore today and no longer had the Hangover Headache from Hell, but he was still tired, especially now that his caffeine buzz had worn off.

"Gonna get another coffee." He glanced at Connor. "You want anything?"

Wait, no... Of course he didn't.

He expected Connor to 'helpfully' remind him that androids didn't eat or drink, but Connor didn't seem to notice or care about the mistake, finding more pressing matters to discuss. Apparently, deviant or not, he still couldn't help himself when the opportunity came to be a smart-ass.

"Are you sure you want another coffee? Too much caffeine can have a negative effect on your health, and considering your mild heart arrhythmia—"

"Let me live, Connor."

"I'm trying, Lieutenant."

If that were the case, he'd stop trying to stress him out during their investigations. Yet, there he was, doing things like running into busy highways and getting his robot organs ripped out on a daily basis.

Hank disregarded the friendly advice as a result, lightly tossing his phone onto Connor's desk. "Let me know if they call back about Kamski, okay?"

Connor automatically reached out to straighten the phone so that it was perpendicular to the desk's edge. "Should I answer it if they do?"

"Yeah, fine. Whatever."

Hank couldn't escape from these androids anywhere he went, it seemed, as the mounted TV in the break room was blaring news of the latest deviant-related events, too. He listened to it as he prepared his coffee, checking to see if anything had changed on the deviant front, but it was just a segment with a number of speakers chiming in with their opinions on the situation, ranging from supportive to hostile.

The interposing arguments were thankfully overpowered by the familiar voice of Ben as he sidled up to the counter to grab a donut. "Hey, Hank. How's your morning going?"

He seemed almost surprised to find Hank there, which was understandable. He usually came into the precinct pretty late, so seeing him there earlier than usual was probably akin to seeing Bigfoot in broad daylight.

"It's going," he mumbled.

Ben gestured to the TV. "Got your hands full with all this android business, huh?"

That was an understatement.

Hank sighed as he poured some creamer into his coffee. "Yeah, it's gettin' complicated. Don't know how much longer I'll be dealing with it, though. FBI says they might take over the case if things get any worse."

"You think things will get worse?"

At this rate, Hank had no goddamn clue what to expect anymore.

"Guess we'll find out." He turned to leave with his coffee, then hesitated when he saw Chris' empty desk in his line of vision. Strange… He hadn't been there all morning. "Hey, you heard from Chris today?"

"No. I was just about to ask you the same thing."

Hmm. "Think something's wrong?"

"Probably just running late," said Ben. "But with everything that's going on… I'll ask Fowler, see if he knows anything."

"All right. Let me know if you find out."

Hank doubted that 'everything that's going on' had anything to do with Chris' absence, but he was a little concerned that something else had happened. Chris was always pretty punctual, and he almost never got sick, so he wasn't one to miss work.

Neither, unfortunately, was Gavin.

"Hey, Connor!"

When Hank walked back into the office area, he spotted Gavin strutting over to Connor's desk to stand beside it, staring at him suspiciously.

"Saw the news this morning," he said coolly, crossing his arms over his chest. "They're saying you androids are becoming a threat."

Connor didn't respond, his attention still fixed on the terminal in front of him, which didn't seem to help Gavin's impatience.

"You say you want 'equality,' but I say that's bullshit. You fuckers just wanna take over the humans now." His voice was low, but it still carried across the room. "You think you're gonna fool anyone with this? You think this changes anything?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Detective Reed."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Gavin scoffed to himself. "Androids doin' this shit... It won't last, you know. The humans'll get smart. Pretty soon they'll start shutting you down the second you refuse to bring your owner coffee. Speaking of which..."

He propped his hands on the desk and leaned down so that he was eye level with Connor.

"I'm still waiting on that coffee I asked you for the other day. How long does it take for you to follow orders? Hm? Maybe they should shut you down, too… Must be defective or some shit."

The word 'defective' seemed to hit a nerve, as Connor finally deigned to look at him the second it was uttered, though his face remained neutral, his tone matter-of-fact. To Hank, who was used to him being a bit more expressive at this point, it was almost strange to see.

"You must not have heard me the first time I told you, Detective," he said simply. "I only take orders from Lieutenant Anderson."

(Sometimes.)

Gavin's grin quickly faded. "And you must not have heard me when I told you I'd fuck you up for disobeying a human. You're an android, so you follow any order you're given no matter who it comes from. You got it?"

"Unfortunately, I'm unable to comply with any order that contradicts my direct instructions from Lieutenant Anderson to stay here and work on the investigation. In this case, the investigation takes priority over your attempt to assert your power over me."

"Assert my—" Gavin straightened up in disbelief. "The fuck are you talking about?"

Connor briefly caught Hank's eye as he made his way closer to them. He then returned his attention to Gavin, his expression suddenly shifting to something more understanding. To anyone else, it would have looked genuinely sympathetic, but Hank recognized it as one of his special simulated emotions, as it was the same face he'd put on while interrogating Ortiz's android way back when.

"I realize that you're... insecure, Detective," said Connor gently, "and that ordering an android to do something you could easily do yourself helps you feel more empowered. But I—"

He didn't flinch when Gavin abruptly slammed his hand down onto the desk.

"Fuck you and get me a fuckin' coffee!"

Gavin didn't like being told he was insecure. Who knew?

People nearby were starting to observe the scene, which Hank almost didn't want to interrupt. The best thing about Connor's feigned innocence as he read Gavin like an open book was that the humans found it believable, because even with deviants causing controversy in the background, no one would expect an android to purposefully be a little shit.

Still, he reluctantly figured it was time to intervene before android parts started flying—or, actually, before human parts started flying, considering how adept Connor was in action.

"Look, you don't need an android for that," Hank said casually as he arrived at the scene. He held out his cup directly in Gavin's face, obscuring his vision of Connor. "If you want coffee that bad, just take mine."

Gavin turned to glare at him, then at the cup. "You've gotta be kidding."

"Nope. Had a few cups already, decided I don't need it. Bad for the heart, and all."

Not believing for one second that Hank actually gave a shit about his own health, Gavin scowled at him before irritably snatching the cup away. He pointed at him with his free hand, speaking through gritted teeth. "Don't trust this thing, Anderson. Sooner or later, it'll turn against you, just like the rest of 'em."

Hank glanced at the thing in question, who was sitting politely with his hands folded in his lap, his head tilted like a curious dog.

"I'm terrified," he said dryly.

Gavin swore again under his breath and trudged away. As he went, he glanced down at the coffee in his grasp, then furtively took a sip of it, only to recoil in disgust at the shit-ton of creamer Hank had put in it.

Enjoy.

Connor watched him go. "You gave him your coffee, Lieutenant?"

Hank didn't quite want to admit that he was trying to get Gavin to leave him alone, so he grumbled, "Just did it so he'd stop screaming about it and fuck off."

Connor moved to get out of his seat. "I'll get you another one."

"Nah, don't bother." Hank leaned against the side of Connor's desk with a sigh. "So, wait. Can you really not follow anyone else's orders if I give you one?"

He doubted it. Partially because Connor barely followed his orders as it was, but mostly because he was pretty sure he never gave him an order to stay there at his desk in the first place.

"No, I can," Connor admitted.

Knew it. "Then why'd you say you couldn't?"

Connor opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, as if something was holding him back from saying it.

So Hank said it for him. "You wanted him to fuck off, too."

Connor made a tiny shrug, which Hank translated as 'yes.'

He snorted. Normally, he'd get mad at the idea of Connor manipulating anyone, but in this case, he was impressed. "So, why the hell was he harassing you, anyway?"

"I'm not sure. I think he was agitated by the news of what the deviants did last night." Connor frowned. "He seems to have the idea that they want to overtake humans, and that I'm a part of it."

Hank understood why some humans might think like Gavin did, especially with how much androids seemed to take over nearly everything else in society, but even Hank himself had never figured that they would want to take over the humans. The deviants that recorded that message didn't seem to, anyway; they only expressed a desire to work with the humans as equals.

The humans didn't hear that, of course. They were just threatened by androids expressing anything at all.

The concept of these disobedient machines rising up in such a way had left people buzzing, particularly about their motivations. Some chalked all of it up to a bizarre collective malfunction that would be fixed soon. Others believed that their free will was true but their peaceful approach wasn't, that their plea for equality was a hidden threat to pave the way for a revolution. Most people just didn't know what to believe, only that they were unsure or even afraid of what these deviants were capable of.

Hank wasn't.

He was concerned about what all of this meant for the road ahead, however. In the end, Connor was right in insisting that the deviants' efforts to speak out were bound to end badly, but Hank doubted it would be caused by the deviants themselves. Though he didn't know much about androids, he knew exactly what humans could do and what lengths they were willing to go to in order to fight against what they feared. They feared what all of this meant for the future. They feared the unknown.

But what if the unknown, in this case, wasn't something to fear?

Hank didn't know the answer—and, really, he didn't know what answer he wanted it to be. He didn't know what to think at all. So much was happening so fast, and he could barely keep up with androids as it was.

Luckily, he knew of someone who could.

He glanced down at his phone that was still sitting on Connor's desk. "So, did they call back about Kamski?"

Before Connor could answer, the phone rang.

They both shared a quick glance before simultaneously racing to grab it. Hank, who was closer to it, managed to intercept it first, but not without throwing his free hand up in exasperation and offering Connor a 'what the fuck' look.

"You said I could answer it," said Connor in a near-whisper.

Hank briefly covered the mouthpiece to hiss, "When I wasn't here."

Connor hesitantly sank back into his seat.

The rep on the other end told Hank that Kamski would be 'delighted' to meet with him at his residence for an interview later today.

Shit, really? He wasn't expecting that.

When he hung up, he noticed Connor staring. "I'm guessing you heard every word of that."

"Correct."

"Then stop sitting there." Hank shuffled over to grab his keys. "It's time for a little road trip."

It was still snowing outside, cloaking the world in white and gray as he drove to the address he was given about a half hour later. Kamski didn't appear to invite people to his place very often, as the roads leading to the less-traveled part of the city where he resided seemed new and barely touched compared to the well-worn streets before it. Hank wondered what made this recluse decide to chat with them face to face as a result... Maybe the information he knew was too much to disclose on the phone. He just hoped it was worth the trip.

Silence reigned for most of the ride there, until Connor proved once again that he couldn't shut up for too long. He peered out the window at the passing snow-laden trees, then tilted his head inquisitively. "Lieutenant, can I ask you a question?"

As long as it wasn't a personal one.

"Listen, you don't have to ask for permission every time you've got a question. Just go ahead and ask it like a normal person."

"Technically, I'm not a normal person." Connor paused, then amended, "I'm not a person."

Hank eyed him. "What's your damn question, Connor?"

"Well, I was just wondering. Why are you driving so slowly?"

Oh. Hank hadn't even noticed that he was driving any slower than usual. These days, it was just second nature for him to be more careful on potentially icy roads, especially winding roads like this one. He supposed he had the memory of a certain speeding CyberLife truck to thank for that habit.

He huffed at Connor's observation. "What, suddenly my driving is too cautious for you? What happened to the android who told me not to take my hands off the wheel?"

"It's just that driving slowly is atypical for you," Connor explained. "Your average rate ranges from ten to fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit."

Yeah, when there wasn't a significant chance that speeding a little would irrevocably ruin lives.

"I'm going slow because there's ice," he said coolly. "Okay? I don't wanna skid off the road and have to pay a small fortune for your repairs."

Connor sat back against the seat with a thoughtful look. "It's nice to know that you're willing to repair me if I'm damaged."

"Yeah, well... Don't give me a reason to change my mind." Hank paused when his explanation fully registered. "Also, why the fuck are you monitoring my speed?"

Connor shrugged.

When they pulled up to their destination a few minutes later, Hank knew he had to be in the right place. The house was huge against the white backdrop of snow, tucked away in solitude on the edge of a frozen lake. Obscure sculptures that matched the jagged nature of the building dotted the yard around it, and there was a long path with metal railings leading to the front door. To Hank, who couldn't even afford a new doorbell for his house that didn't scare the shit out of him, the whole atmosphere screamed 'pretentious.'

"Think this guy's rich?" he said sarcastically as he propped open the car door.

The more literal-minded Connor probably would have answered his question in earnest if he wasn't still in his head. He'd mentioned making a report to CyberLife before essentially shutting down in his seat, but with how long it seemed to be taking him, Hank liked to believe that he was instead arguing with the robot devil and deviant angel on his shoulders.

He snorted at the mental image as he stepped into the chilly air.

The moment he shut the door behind him, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He scowled as he pulled it out, not wanting to talk to anyone else, until he saw who was calling.

"Hey, Ben," he answered.

Ben didn't even bother with a greeting. "I found out what happened to Chris."

Evidently, Chris was one of the cops that had arrived at Capitol Park during the CyberLife raid. The backup they'd called for had found him and his partner in a state of shock when they were dispatched to the scene.

God. No wonder he wasn't there at the precinct this morning. Facing down the barrel of a gun held by an unpredictable deviant had to be terrifying, whether the deviant ultimately fired or not. Hank couldn't blame him for being in shock.

Just as he ended the call, he heard the car door shut behind him, followed by Connor's footsteps crunching in the snow. He slowed to a stop when he realized Hank wasn't moving.

"Is everything okay, Lieutenant?"

Hank glanced back at him with a frown, divulging the news. Connor took it all in, looking briefly puzzled when he mentioned that Markus was the one who had saved Chris' life.

"Is Chris okay?"

Considering that Connor would usually bypass news of this sort and continue with his mission as planned, Hank was a little taken aback at the question. He certainly wasn't opposed, though; it was about time this android started thinking about other people.

"Yeah," he replied. "He's in shock, but… he's alive."

Hank was shocked, too, especially at the end result. This Markus guy had the opportunity to get revenge against the policemen who gunned down his own kind so mercilessly, yet he didn't take advantage of it. He spared them instead.

With all that people had been saying about the deviants' motives, Hank had to admit that he'd had some creeping doubts about whether or not they really wanted to resolve any of this peacefully, but Markus just proved that they did—even when he had every reason not to.

He decided not to think about it too much, knowing they were there on a mission, so he began to venture down the path to the front door, taking in the scenery along the way. It was fairly easy to spot the infamous CyberLife tower that stood in the distance, its black exterior a stark contrast against the falling snow. It was partially obscured as it loomed from its high point among the gray clouds, which somehow made it look even more intimidating than usual. Hank didn't know that was possible.

The android that called it home was just behind him, strangely quiet since their brief chat about Chris. It was only when they almost reached the entrance that he abruptly spoke up to address a pressing issue.

"I have a bad feeling, Lieutenant. We shouldn't have come here."

If a supposedly unfeeling android had enough of an instinct to believe this was a bad place, then it had to be. Still, hearing him admit feeling anything at all was rare, so Hank looked over his shoulder at him, arching a brow.

"Bad feeling, huh… Should get your program checked. Might be a glitch."

Connor didn't respond.

It took a while for their arrival to get any attention after Hank rang the noticeably not-annoying doorbell. After allowing a few more seconds of silence, he reached out to impatiently ring it again when it finally opened to reveal a girl in a blue dress—probably one of his assistants. Hank wasn't expecting Kamski himself to be opening his own doors like some commoner, so he wasn't surprised to see her in his place.

He was surprised, however, to see the spinning circle of light on her temple.

Hi, what the hell? He had been so sure that this girl was human at first glance. He was used to seeing deviants looking and acting like humans, of course, but mistaking a regular android as one was admittedly jarring. He had only just gotten over the fact that the kid he saw on that highway was an android, too.

"Hi, uh." He pushed past his reaction, clearing his throat. "I'm, er, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit Police Department. I'm here to see… uh, Mr. Elijah Kamski."

The girl smiled warmly. "Please, come in."

Hank glanced back at Connor, who was staring at her wordlessly, before following her in with a mumble of, "Okay."

She led them into a large foyer, gesturing to some chairs nearby. "I'll let Elijah know you're here. But please, make yourself comfortable."

Thanks.

Hank plopped down into one of the chairs, nodding toward the door through which she had just disappeared. "Nice girl."

Connor didn't immediately respond. He seemed distracted as he stood in the middle of the room, gazing at where she was last standing.

"You're right," he said softly. "She's really pretty."

Um...

Was Hank going insane? Or did Connor actually just say what he thought he said?

He raised his brow in surprise. Of all the ways he might have expected him to respond, calling another android pretty was not one of them.

The not-deviant usually would have caught himself after saying something like that, but he didn't even seem to notice, so Hank put on a shrewd smile, waiting for what he said to sink in. Connor seemed to feel his stare, as he turned around to meet it, only to blink in confusion at Hank's visible amusement.

A few more beats of silence passed before his own words finally seemed to hit him.

"That is to say," he added, "it was designed to appear aesthetically attractive to blend in with humans. The ST600 model was the first CyberLife android to pass the Turing Test."

Good save.

Hank's smirk remained, especially after spotting a look on Connor's face that vaguely read 'shut up' before he turned away.

Another thing that Hank learned about androids that day: They got flustered about their crushes, too.

He decided to give the kid a break, just as the latter had already moved on, scouring the area for nonexistent clues. He tended to do that in every room he walked into, whether it was pertinent to the investigation or not, leaving Hank to wonder if that behavior was programmed into him. His curiosity apparently was, so he wouldn't put it past CyberLife to make him obsess about finding answers to sate it.

Then again, he could just be that interested in everything around him, at least in this instance. This place in particular was interesting to look at. Everything here was probably ridiculously expensive, from the tall statues to the abstract art to even the architecture of the building itself.

"Nice place." Hank eyed the prominent portrait of who he presumed to be Kamski himself hanging in the center of the wall. This guy was certainly humble. "Guess androids haven't been a bad thing for everybody."

He glanced over at Connor, who was now scrutinizing a framed photo on the wall. He wondered what it was like to know that he was going to talk to the creator of his own kind. Was this whole thing weird for him at all? It had to be. It was weird for Hank, anyway.

"You're about to meet your maker, Connor," he said lightly. "How's it feel?"

Connor's stare lingered on the photo for a few more seconds before he finally stepped away from it. That appeared to be the last thing in the room that he wanted to examine, as he walked over to sit in the other available chair.

"Kamski is one of the great geniuses of the 21st century," he replied. "It'll be interesting to meet him in person."

Odd. He seemed more fascinated about the prospect of meeting Kamski than anything else. Hank had expected that he might be anxious about performing to CyberLife's standards, or maybe even angry at the fact that by creating androids, Kamski technically had a hand in creating deviancy, too.

He gazed out the window at the falling snow. "Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face… I'd have a couple of things I'd wanna tell him."

Maybe he'd throw in a few punches, too.

Before he could dwell on any of this, the door to the next room opened, revealing the not-human-actually hostess.

"Elijah will see you now."

When Hank followed her into the room, he was greeted by an unusual sight: a large pool with red coating on the bottom that made the water look blood red. Two androids identical to the one leading them inside were chatting with each other at one end of the pool, while a human figure was swimming on the other side.

Well, he wasn't chilling in a jacuzzi like Hank suspected, but a pool was pretty damn close.

"Mr. Kamski?" he called.

"Just a moment, please."

Hank scowled. Apparently, 'Elijah will see you now' actually meant 'Elijah will make you wait some more, but in a big room this time.'

It took a few more minutes for Kamski to grace them with his presence, and it took even longer for him to ready himself, but eventually, he managed. Donned in a robe, he turned around to look at them expectantly.

Oh, ready now? Fantastic.

"I'm Lieutenant Anderson." He nodded at the android standing obediently beside him. "This is Connor."

Kamski's sly look lingered on Connor for a few extra seconds before he offered the human his rapt attention, folding his hands politely in front of him. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, we're investigating deviants. I know you left CyberLife years ago, but... I was hoping you'd be able to tell us something we don't know."

There was a perceptive spark in Kamski's eye.

"Deviants... Fascinating, aren't they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will." He glanced at the girl, whose expression was neutral as she awaited further instruction. "Machines are so superior to us. Confrontation was inevitable... Humanity's greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall." He smiled. "Isn't it ironic?"

Yeah. Hilarious.

Connor, eager for answers, cut in to address the most important matter before Hank even had the chance to do so himself. "Deviancy seems to spread like some kind of virus. We thought you might know something about that."

Kamski made a small shrug. "All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?"

Ah, wonderful. This guy was just going to be relentlessly cryptic the whole time instead of giving them actual answers, wasn't he?

"Listen, I didn't come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution," Hank said bitterly, already losing his patience. "Either you can tell us something that'll be helpful, or we will be on our way."

Kamski decided to not be helpful again. His attention shifted over to Connor, who blinked back, likely not expecting to be spoken to at all.

"What about you, Connor?" he asked. "Whose side are you on?"

Connor didn't answer immediately, which was almost an answer in itself. His expression was impassive, though he seemed to be fighting to keep it that way. He was doing that a lot lately.

"It's not about me, Mr. Kamski," he replied at last. "All I want is to solve this case."

Kamski chuckled. "Well, that's what you're programmed to say. But you..." He stepped directly in front of Connor so that they were face to face. "What do you really want?"

Hank knew that deviants were no longer bound by their programming, but somehow, it never occurred to him that how they were programmed to think and act might be different than who they really were. If that was true, how much of the real Connor showed through in his words and actions? What parts of him were his program, and what parts of him were truly him?

Hank supposed he was about to find out. In spite of himself, he remained where he stood, suddenly very interested in Connor's answer—mainly because he had never directly answered his similar question back at the bar. He wondered if he'd have the guts to do the same to his creator.

The not-deviant's valiant attempt to keep emotion away from his face was now failing. He didn't respond to Kamski's question at first, perhaps unsure of how to respond at all. He looked somewhat troubled, his brow furrowed, his jaw shifting a little in thought.

His words were slow when they finally came out. "What I want is... not important."

He didn't sound too convinced.

Neither was Kamski, whose steely gaze was unaffected by the knowing smile that crept to his lips. He finally broke his attention away to acknowledge the android who was still standing nearby. "Chloe?"

Chloe walked over to join their little party.

"I'm sure you're familiar with the Turing Test," Kamski said as he nonchalantly guided her to stand before them. "Mere formality. A simple question of algorithms and computing capacity… What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it the Kamski Test." He glanced back at Hank, as if to reassure him that he wasn't wasting their time with all this experimental bullshit. "It's very simple, you'll see."

No need for a test. Hank already knew the answer. He had a sneaking suspicion that Kamski already knew the answer, too.

Kamski stepped closer to Chloe, who was staring forward stoically.

"Magnificent, isn't it? One of the first intelligent models designed by CyberLife. Young and beautiful forever." He gently took her chin and turned her head to look at him. "A flower that will never wither."

Hank searched the android's face for any signs of discomfort at this creep's touch, knowing all too well how so many human touches tended to end in violence. She seemed perfectly unbothered, so he shifted his attention back to Kamski, who had just let go of her with another shrug.

"But what is it really?" he mused. "A piece of plastic imitating a human, or a living being... with a soul?"

Hank used to think the former, but now, despite everything, he was starting to lean more toward the latter. He didn't know if he could call androids living beings with a soul, per se, but he could at least consider them beings in their own right. He certainly couldn't call them mindless pieces of plastic anymore.

His plastic partner, meanwhile, couldn't seem to answer the question at all, only staring as Kamski reached into a drawer to retrieve something. Then, he cautiously turned around with both hands in the air, one of them now gripping a gun by its barrel.

Hank's hand reached instinctively for the weapon in his own belt. Jesus Christ. Was this guy about to shoot this android to get a reaction or something? Maybe Connor was right about having a bad feeling... He was starting to have a bad feeling about coming here himself.

Kamski gently pushed Chloe to her knees.

Bad feeling intensifying.

"It's up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor."

What—

Kamski casually placed the gun in Connor's hand, then aimed it directly at Chloe's forehead.

—the fuck?

"Destroy this machine, and I'll tell you all I know." Kamski let go, but Connor didn't move, still pointing the weapon. "Or spare it, if you feel it's alive… But you'll leave here without having learned anything from me."

Kill for information, spare for none. Connor had been forced to make decisions like this before.

But it was never to this extent. Sparing or letting those deviants go in previous situations meant that they had lost a chance at getting information, but that was information they didn't even know they had in the first place. Kamski knew the information they came there for. If Connor followed his instructions, his answers were a promise, a certainty—and Connor needed that certainty. He needed to shoot this android if he wanted to get any step closer to solving this case, and solving this case was all he ever wanted to do.

Hank knew what choice he would make as a result, and he didn't want to see it. He didn't care if they didn't receive any information, and he didn't care what Connor had to say about it. No information Kamski could give them was worth shooting someone in the head, android or otherwise.

"Okay, I think we're done here." Hank started to leave. "C'mon, Connor. Let's go. Sorry to get you outta your pool—"

"What's more important to you, Connor?" Kamski asked, ignoring Hank completely. "Your investigation, or the life of this android?"

Hank used to think that Connor's immediate answer would be 'the investigation,' but now he wasn't so sure—and it seemed that Connor himself wasn't sure, either. He was beginning to visibly struggle at Kamski's insistent questions, his face twitching, his gaze lingering on the android before him, who was gazing back with wide, innocent eyes.

"Decide who you are," Kamski continued. "An obedient machine, or a living being endowed with free will."

Connor's LED started rapidly cycling between yellow and red.

During the rest of their long conversation at the bar yesterday evening, Hank had ending up asking a series of questions about androids in an effort to understand deviants better for the case, and at one point, he'd asked what it meant when an android's LED went red. Connor answered that it indicated many different things: The android was either 1) physically in danger, 2) undergoing a critical malfunction or shock to the system, or 3) unstable and close to a breaking point.

Right now, this android appeared to be experiencing reason number three.

One of two things was about to happen: Either this girl was going to get shot, or Connor was going to self-destruct before he had the chance to shoot her. Hank didn't want to witness either option, so he tried unsuccessfully to intervene again.

"That's enough! Connor, we're leaving."

Kamski stepped closer. "Pull the trigger—"

"CONNOR!" Hank's abrupt yell echoed around the room. "Don't."

"—and I'll tell you what you want to know."

Connor's grip on the gun was starting to shake. His indecisive blinking had stopped after Hank's warning, replaced with a resolute stare on the android before him. He readied his hold on the gun, his finger moving to the trigger, every part of him probably screaming to pull it.

Then, every part of him refused.

The exact instant of this refusal was marked by his LED turning completely red. With a sharp exhale that said I can't do this, Connor lowered the gun and held it out for Kamski to take back, his decision made.

Kamski was staring at him as he slowly retrieved the weapon, his reaction coming out in an awed whisper. "Fascinating."

Hank was frozen in place as he observed from afar, both relief and dread washing over him at once. Connor was now staring at the floor, not looking anyone in the eye, especially not Kamski as the latter began to circle around him in astonishment.

"CyberLife's last chance to save humanity," he said, "is itself a deviant."

Hank fucking knew it.

Well, saying he knew it wasn't exactly true. Until now, his idea that Connor might be deviant was really nothing but speculation, nothing but an irrational hope. He had his suspicions, and he'd certainly convinced himself, but he never knew for sure.

Kamski, however, did. He was the expert on everything involving androids, including all that deviancy entailed. He absolutely knew a deviant when he saw one.

Which meant, therefore, that Hank fucking knew it.

Yet he found himself unable to celebrate. He had anticipated the potential reveal of Connor's deviancy to be at least a little victorious on his part, where he could revel in the fact that he wasn't imagining things, that his machine of a partner wasn't entirely a machine after all—but right now, he felt none of that. All he felt instead was an overwhelming wave of pity, especially at the dawning horror in Connor's eyes.

Because to someone whose sole purpose was to take deviants down, this wasn't a victory at all. This was absolute defeat.

"I'm..." Connor couldn't speak for a moment, still processing Kamski's words. Emotion that he wasn't supposed to have flitted visibly across his face: shock, confusion, fear again. Then, it was all replaced by an almost childlike defiance when he lifted his gaze to Kamski's in protest. "I'm not a deviant!"

"You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission," Kamski stated, pulling the girl back to her feet. "You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy."

He sent her away to live another day.

Connor watched his guaranteed chance at information go, his jaw clenched. Kamski blocked his view of her, making him look him in the eye.

"A war is coming. You'll have to choose your side... Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators?" Kamski offered him a sad smile. "I wouldn't want to be in your shoes, Connor. What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?"

Oh, good—more existential questions. Time to get away from this prick.

Hank shoved himself between them, glaring at Kamski as he pulled his partner away. "Let's get outta here."

Connor obeyed, hastening toward the foyer with Hank at his heels. He heard Kamski call something to Connor when he reached the doorway, causing him to stop in his tracks just as Hank brushed past him.

"By the way... I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know."

Hank couldn't even try to decipher what the fuck that meant, but he guessed he didn't have to, as Connor already seemed to know. He never acknowledged his words, however, only plodding to the exit in silence.

Hank wasn't quite as eager as Connor was to leave what just happened behind, the scene he'd witnessed playing on a loop in his head.

In hindsight, he really had no reason to be surprised that Connor was capable of empathy. He'd already been convinced that he was a deviant at this point, and he'd already learned that deviants could feel empathy, just as they could feel any other emotion.

He supposed it was just a little strange to acknowledge that Connor could feel it, too. Empathy was about putting yourself in others' shoes and feeling what others feel, and this was, after all, an android who claimed that he felt nothing. This was an android who argued that his actions or words were only out of logic or necessity or just because it was what he was programmed to do. This was an android who was willing to risk his life to chase down his own people across dangerous obstacles or shoot them three times in the head with no hesitation, because he was always prepared to do whatever was necessary to accomplish the mission that, at one point, was more important to him than life itself.

It was because of these aspects of who Connor was (or used to be) that Hank found himself automatically fearing he would shoot Chloe point-blank… But, when it came down to it, he guessed he wasn't too surprised that he didn't. Some other part of him knew that if Connor did end up shooting, it would only be out of a desperate need for answers, not because he didn't care.

Because somewhere deep down in that blue-blooded robot heart of his, Connor did care. He cared more than he'd like to admit.

It was apparent in all the glimpses of empathy that Hank had seen in him since day one: Intervening to protect the terrified deviant at the interrogation. Saving his partner from falling to his death not because he needed him alive for the case like he stated, but because he cared enough about his well-being to save him at all. Letting the girls at the Eden Club escape without injury because some part of him realized that they were the victims in that situation. Understanding the fear of the dying deviant at Stratford Tower because he knew on some level what that fear felt like. Even empathizing in small moments, like asking if Chris was okay or hiding Hank's gun to make sure he wouldn't use it to kill himself.

Before suspecting him to be deviant (and even sometimes after), Hank hadn't really considered empathy to be what drove these actions. Well, he had for maybe a split second, until he went on to attribute them to more plausibly android-like reasons, like an error in his program, or some kind of ulterior motive on his or CyberLife's behalf. Then, he started to assume that Connor was just following his philosophy of putting lives over the mission whether he agreed with it or not, until he remembered that Connor wasn't really one to listen to what he had to say anyway.

In the end, the only other option left to believe was the most obvious one: Connor's actions were not driven by what he was told to do or who he was programmed to be. They were driven by something more.

They were driven by human emotion.

And somehow, Kamski knew that. He knew exactly what he was doing with that test and what Connor's choice was going to be. From the very second Connor walked through the door, Kamski was aware of what kind of android he was, and it certainly wasn't an unfeeling machine.

Whether Connor was aware of this was another story entirely. Did he realize what he was doing when he did all these things? He had to, right? He always appeared to struggle with himself after the fact, perhaps not knowing why he did it but understanding the implications that he had.

Presently, he seemed to be struggling with himself yet again as he stepped out into the bitter cold, stuck in his racing thoughts. Hank trailed behind him a little more deliberately after shutting the door behind him, wondering what was going through his head.

If he knew anything about how Connor operated, he knew that he would find a way to deny what just happened. Still, he had to ask. He had to see this from his point of view while he had the chance.

"Why didn't you shoot?"

He had questioned Connor's decisions before, sometimes even to his face, but Connor had always been able to hide behind logical explanations instead of giving a direct answer. This time, though, there was no logical explanation for what he chose to do, nor was there another deviant to blame it on.

This time, he had to face the truth.

Connor turned around to do just that, the light on his head turning red. Unstable again.

"I just saw that girl's eyes," he said, his voice wavering, "and I couldn't. That's all."

Well, at least he admitted that he couldn't make himself do it, even if he didn't know why. If he'd vaguely said instead that he just 'decided not to' like he had back at the bridge, Hank probably would've screamed.

"You're always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission," he noted. Connor halted again at his words with a visible grimace. "That was our chance to learn something, and you let it go."

Apparently, Connor did not like being reminded of this fact. He whirled around and trudged back over to him, raising his voice.

"Yeah, I know what I should've done—I told you, I couldn't!" He stopped before him, helplessly throwing his hands up, as if he didn't know what else to say. "I'm sorry. Okay?"

Hank had heard Connor yell at a human before. It was only once, back when he saved that deviant at the interrogation from Gavin's wrath. Back then, it was confrontational, even a little scolding. This time, it was defensive, an attempt to justify his actions, probably expecting Hank to be angry about those actions.

Hank was the opposite of angry. In fact, he couldn't help but smile in passing as he headed to the car. "Well, maybe you did the right thing."

Connor turned to watch him go, not even trying to hide the distraught confusion on his face.

This confusion must have frozen him to the spot, as he didn't follow him down the trail; he just stood there, staring down at Hank's footprints in the snow. It was only when Hank got into the car and lightly beeped the horn that he jolted back to reality, glancing up at the source.

Hank sarcastically waved his hand out the open window. "You coming or not?"

Connor made a tiny twitch of the head as if to shake his thoughts away before starting down the path to join him.

He was actively avoiding Hank's gaze as he opened the passenger door and distractedly flopped into the seat. The non-methodical movement was so unlike his typical composed demeanor that Hank had to fight back his growing amusement, but he decided not to press him about it, figuring he wasn't in the mood to talk.

He figured correctly, as the ride back into the city was quiet.

Hank was used to his own thoughts taking over him from time to time, but Connor, whose more linear line of thinking was probably incomprehensibly scattered at this point, definitely wasn't. He was noticeably tense as he stared blankly at the endless stretch of road before him. His LED was flipping between yellow and blue, trying to process something unsuccessfully.

Usually, Hank was all too eager to let Connor stew in his silence, because silence from this android was a rarity. This time, however, he found himself wanting to break it.

"What's going on in that computer brain of yours?"

It took Connor a few seconds to respond, his voice trailing slowly, as if he wasn't sure how to put it into words. "More than it was programmed for, I think."

Hank chuckled. "Well, guess you've never been one to do what you were programmed for, anyway."

Connor's LED briefly blinked to red at the insinuation. His jaw clenched for a moment as he debated on how to respond, before he eventually settled with, "I suppose you're right."

Hank raised a brow at the unfamiliar twinge of bitterness in his tone. "You mad about what happened back there, or something?"

For once, Connor didn't deny the fact that feeling mad was a possibility. He only shook his head. "I'm just... disappointed that we didn't get any answers. That's all."

"That's all, huh." Hank heaved a sigh. "Listen, Connor. I know you're not exactly used to it, but not all investigations are gonna end up with answers. Sometimes they lead to dead ends."

Connor's voice was low and somewhat strained when he muttered, "This wasn't a dead end, Lieutenant."

The conversation apparently was, as he said nothing further, his eyes becoming unfocused. Figuring he was ruminating again, Hank reached over and turned on the radio to fill the sudden silence.

(He didn't know why Connor flinched when Knights of the Black Death started playing. He thought he liked heavy metal.)

By the time they got close to the police station, his stomach was starting to growl, so he decided to make a detour from the original path. Connor, who had been sitting in silence for the remainder of the trip, only seemed to notice the change in course when they arrived at a local fast food place a few minutes later. He must have been expecting to return to the station immediately, as he was puzzled to find them parked elsewhere.

"What are we doing here?" he asked.

"Lunch," Hank replied as he turned the engine off. "That's what I'm doing, anyway."

"Oh," was all Connor said. He'd probably forgotten that his human partner needed food to live.

Yeah. Sorry for the inconvenience.

After getting his burger, Hank decided against eating there in favor of going to what tended to be his favorite spot in town, which was already close to the restaurant anyway.

It felt almost strange to be there when they arrived. Last time they were there, Hank was having an existential crisis, androids weren't close to sparking a war against the humans, and his partner was a simple android who hadn't even begun to war with himself.

Said android had elected to remain in the car when Hank started to leave. He didn't understand why until he heard the bass of the car radio's music abruptly switch to the intermittent static and droning voices of the police frequency, indicating that Connor was listening obsessively for further 'rogue android' developments.

Hank shook his head to himself as he walked away, figuring that some things never changed.

The park across from the scenic Ambassador Bridge was definitely more populated now than it was at one in the morning, but it was still somewhat sparse on a weekday around noon, especially with the snow and chill. There were a few children goofing around on the playground or throwing snowballs at each other, most of them with their android caretakers, and some people were strolling along the path, occasionally eyeing the androids with caution.

Connor must not have found anything of worth on the radio, for just as Hank sat down on the bench that overlooked the bridge, he heard footsteps approaching from behind. He didn't have to look to know it was him.

"Thought you were staying in the car," he murmured as Connor stopped to stand beside the bench.

"I wanted to make sure you were all right, Lieutenant. The last time you came here, things... weren't going well for you."

Or you, Hank thought. Luckily, he wasn't going to point a gun at his head this time.

(Well, he wasn't planning on it, anyway.)

"I'm fine." For the present moment, at least. "I don't just come here to mope, you know."

Connor briefly glanced back at the playground behind them. "Why do you come here?"

"Force of habit, I guess… Used to come here a lot."

"With your son?"

Shit. So he did know about Cole.

Hank felt his heart sink in his chest, as it always did whenever his son was mentioned. He averted his gaze to the city skyline. "Yeah."

There was a beat of comprehension from Connor, who hesitated before moving to sit down on the bench beside him. He was cautious about it, knowing that most humans didn't like being on equal ground with their androids if they could help it. Hank considered himself unlike most humans, though, so he didn't care. He supposed Connor knew that by now.

"I'm sorry, Hank," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to remind you of him."

Connor apologized about a lot of things, but it almost sounded like he meant it this time.

"Doesn't matter. I'm reminded of him every day." Hank shook his head to rid himself of any potentially depressing thoughts about his son, which he'd miraculously managed to ward off for the past day or two. He supposed this investigation had been useful at keeping him focused on other things. "Don't really have a reason to come here anymore, I guess, but… it's a good place to take my lunch break sometimes. Here—hold this for a sec."

He tossed his half-eaten burger at Connor as he fished for the fries at the bottom of the takeout bag. Connor caught it with ease, then tentatively lifted it to eye level to scrutinize it. It was probably taking every ounce of his processing power to hold himself back from making some smart-ass comment about Hank's cholesterol again.

Hank took the burger back before he could get the chance.

He continued eating in silence, leaving Connor to do what he seemed to hate doing most of all: nothing. He must have finished his routine of scanning the immediate vicinity already, as it took him no time at all to move on to his next course of action, which was to annoy his partner by playing with that coin of his again. Being the show-off he was, he didn't even bother to observe his own tricks, staring into space while he absentmindedly weaved the coin back and forth through his fingers.

It was only when he idly looked in Hank's general direction that the latter pointed it out through a mouth full of food. "Calibrating?"

Connor blinked at him, then down at his hand, as if he hadn't even realized he was doing it. He seemed to debate on his reply as he bounced the coin to his other hand and began maneuvering it through those fingers in the same way.

"Fidgeting," he said at last.

Hank snorted. "How'd you learn to do all that, anyway?"

"I didn't. I was programmed with quick reflexes, so... I guess you could say it comes naturally."

Hank didn't know why he even asked. "Wish I was programmed to do shit like that."

He expected Connor to deny that a human could do anything as complicated as the tricks he did, but Connor yet again surprised him. He was doing that a lot today. "I could try teaching you."

Emphasis on 'try,' Hank figured, since Connor only ever seemed to 'do.' Then again, in true android form, Connor did a lot of things perfectly on the first try, so maybe teaching a puny human some coin tricks was also one of those things.

Before Hank had the chance to accept the offer, he was interrupted by the particularly loud conversation of two people walking just past where they were sitting, their voices drowning out his potential reply.

Before Hank had the chance to accept the offer, he was interrupted by the particularly loud conversation of two people walking just past where they were sitting, their voices drowning out his potential reply.

"Seriously? You're on their side?"

"I mean, it's just-I just think we should at least try to hear them out."

"Hear 'em out? They don't have anything to say. They're androids."

"They sure as hell had a lot to say in that speech, and with all that graffiti."

"I heard it's just some sorta malfunction making them do all that stuff, though. They don't actually know what they're doing."

"I don't know... It's a weird-ass malfunction if it is one. Never heard of malfunctioning androids acting like real people."

Hank had news for him.

It was interesting to see people talking about deviancy from an outsiders' point of view, but it was even more interesting to see that some were being at least somewhat open-minded about the idea. He had wholly expected most humans to be totally against these robots with free will, with maybe a few just apathetic to the whole situation, but he certainly hadn't expected that others might be more sympathetic to them.

How many others were on the same page? Not many, he guessed.

Certainly not the android doing his best to fight against them, who was silent beside him. Knowing that he'd heard every word, Hank glanced over to gauge his reaction, finding only poorly-concealed bewilderment on his face as he watched the humans walk away. Hank couldn't blame him; as someone who predicted nothing short of disaster with deviants rising up, he probably didn't even consider the possibility that some humans might see them in a more sympathetic light.

"Guess those deviants actually got through to some people," Hank mused, earning a perplexed look from him.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they've been doing all this shit 'cause they're trying to get their message out, right?" Hank nodded in the humans' direction as they continued to walk away. "Looks like people are starting to listen."

Connor wasn't convinced. "That person seemed more curious than anything else. Curiosity about an unfamiliar concept like deviancy doesn't necessarily indicate a willingness to accept it."

"You as an investigator should know more than anyone else what happens when people get curious, though. Being curious leads to asking questions, and asking questions leads to answers."

Connor frowned. "Not always. Asking questions didn't lead to answers at Kamski's."

Ah, there it was. Hank knew this subject would come up eventually.

"Kamski didn't give you the chance to ask any fucking questions," he grumbled.

"He did give me the chance." Connor couldn't quite hide his growing frustration, which caused him to overshoot his coin when he tried to fling it into his hand to stop it completely. Without missing a beat, he smoothly caught it out of the air and flicked it back to the other hand in exactly the same way, as if to imply that he'd meant to do that. "I just failed to take advantage of it by sparing that android."

He liked to use the word 'fail' a lot. Hank wished he could get it through his plastic skull that failure wasn't always the end of the world.

"Well, you failed. So what?" He shrugged. "At least you failed for a good reason."

"There was no good reason."

"Sure there was. You saw that android as someone whose life was more valuable than what you could've learned for the investigation, so you kept her alive... Sounds like a pretty good reason to me."

He could only interpret Connor's responding look as DOES NOT COMPUTE.

"It's irrational. That android wasn't alive. She was just a machine." He cast his eyes down to the now-motionless coin in his grasp. "And machines are replaceable."

Hank had reason to suspect that Connor was trying to convince himself of this fact more than anyone else, seeing how he had just openly considered that machine a girl who deserved to live not too long ago. That wasn't exactly something he could deny, either. Even if he tried to take back his words, he couldn't take back his actions... especially when those actions showed more than words ever could.

Because Kamski was right: In deciding to spare that android, Connor also, to some extent, decided who he was. He decided that he was a person who could think for himself instead of an android whose programming thought for him. He decided that he wasn't the replaceable machine he kept saying all androids were, and neither was the one at his mercy.

By making these decisions, Connor revealed a lot about himself, even if he didn't realize it.

So Hank, as always, saw directly through his bullshit. "You still believe that?"

There was a beat of silence on Connor's end, as if the question surprised him. He turned to meet Hank's gaze, something strange in his own. "You don't?"

"I dunno." Hank shrugged, picking at a piece of lettuce on his burger. "Don't know what to believe anymore."

Connor's only response was to stare at him with the same dubious squint that Hank often saw when he was trying to piece together the puzzle at crime scenes. A few moments passed before he eventually seemed to give up on figuring his partner out, as he shook his head to himself and looked away.

"Regardless of the reason," he continued, "I realize that the choice I made was… an error in judgment, at least when it comes to what we could have learned if I had chosen otherwise."

Why was he still dwelling on this 'error in judgment'—or going back on it, for that matter? He seemed pretty adamant about defending his decision when he was shouting at Hank about it before. That quiet car ride must have been spent berating himself for what he 'should have done' instead of listening to Hank's praise that he did the right thing.

If that was the case, Hank wasn't shocked. Connor never fucking listened to him anyway.

"So, what—you regret sparing her now?" he asked.

Connor seemed reluctant to admit the truth, as it took him a moment to reply.

"No... Not exactly," he said cautiously. "I just regret that it resulted in nothing useful for the investigation. It only resulted in a waste of time."

"Well, I don't think it was a complete waste of time," said Hank lightly. "For starters, we found out you're a deviant. So, you know… That's something."

"I'm not a deviant," said the deviant.

"All right," Hank said lightly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Connor shoot him a wary glance, likely wondering why he was accepting his denial so easily. He wasn't, but he knew from experience that any further attempt to argue would be like talking to a brick wall, so he wasn't about to waste his breath. Connor would figure it out eventually.

Or not. This was, after all, the most stubborn android on the planet.

"Anyway, look," he added, "I'm sure this whole thing with Kamski would've been a waste of time no matter what you did. The guy hasn't been with CyberLife in years... He probably knew as much as we did and just wanted to fuck with you 'cause he could."

"No. He knew something."

Yeah, he knew how to be a self-righteous dick.

"What makes you so sure?"

"He already seemed to know about how deviancy spreads like a virus. He must have known more about how that works... Maybe even how to stop it from spreading futher."

Hank wasn't sure that Kamski even wanted to stop it. It seemed more like he was supporting it—or, at the very least, was indifferent to whatever 'chaos' it might cause. He'd said himself that confrontation with the deviants was inevitable, and he was completely unbothered by the fact that that confrontation was happening now. Then there was the fact that he kept encouraging Connor to think against his programming, which showed that he was more than just fascinated by the concept of deviancy; he was determined to see it happen.

Because of this, Hank couldn't help but think that even if Kamski did know how to stop it, he probably wouldn't have revealed it anyway. He certainly hadn't bothered to reveal anything before, staying silent in his comfy lair when all of this shit was just starting to crop up.

He decided not to disclose his suspicions about Kamski's loyalties to Connor, who already seemed to have enough on his mind, so he made another small shrug. "Guess we'll have to figure that out without him."

"We need to figure it out before it's too late," Connor stated. "Kamski was correct about one thing: If the deviants aren't stopped soon, this situation could potentially lead to a civil war."

Hank knew that asking his opinion would be pointless at this rate, but he still had to wonder if Connor was under the impression that the deviants would start that war, or if he was on the same page in thinking that the humans would likely be the ones to put them at risk. He was on the humans' side when it came to his mission (or so he claimed), but that didn't mean he couldn't think that most of the humans he served were goddamn idiots. If that was the case, he and Hank could finally agree on something.

Connor was silent after mentioning the prospect of war, staring with unfocused eyes at the pavement, deep in thought again. But then, rather suddenly, he adopted a more optimistic air, his voice returning to its usual confident tone.

"But a conflict of that scale can still be prevented," he decided, as if he'd had to convince himself of this first. "We just need to keep moving forward with the investigation and solve this case."

But no pressure.

"So, okay… How exactly do you plan on 'moving forward' now?"

Connor considered this. "We may not have gotten information from Kamski, but we still have a lead with Jericho. There has to be more information about that somewhere... We just need to know where to look."

"Well, it's not like we've got nothing to look at already," Hank muttered, crumpling up his burger wrapper. "There's still a shit-ton of evidence back at the station that we gotta go through."

Mr. 'Androids Don't Forget Anything' must have forgotten about their collection of evidence, as his eyes lit up in realization. "Can I look through it when we get there?"

Hank didn't care what he decided to do with his time when they got there. "Why're you asking me?"

"Well, I'm not allowed to go to the basement by myself. I need you to go with me."

At this point, Hank was surprised that this not-deviant who almost never listened to his orders was concerned about following the rules at all—but then he figured that with the humans on high alert, they would be more willing to report any android that wasn't following protocol, and Connor was aware of that.

So he sighed. "Fine. We'll go look at it."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

Hank grunted as he got to his feet. "You know, I'm just saying—we probably wouldn't have to look at anything if you were a deviant."

Connor stood up, too, with significantly less (zero) effort. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if all their info's actually shared with each other like you say, you'd know everything like that." Hank snapped his fingers. "No investigation needed."

He half-expected the contradiction of Connor's need to solve the case vs. his denial of deviancy to make him short-circuit, but he was unfazed at the attempt. He offered Hank a look that said 'nice try' before stating, "I doubt that CyberLife would want a deviant investigating deviants."

That... was a good point, actually.

Hank had already known for a while that Connor didn't want to be what he was supposed to be taking down, but he'd never really considered the fact that CyberLife didn't, either. Connor's reluctance to accept his own deviancy as well as his fear when Kamski pointed it out suddenly made a lot more sense... CyberLife would undoubtedly want to take their specially-made deviant-hunting prototype off the case at the first visible sign that he might be deviant himself—and with how determined he was to solve that case, this deviant wasn't about to jeopardize his only opportunity to do so while he was still able to fly under their radar.

Hank wondered how much longer that would last.

"Yeah, true," he replied. "Though... I guess at that point, what CyberLife wants wouldn't really matter anymore."

Connor didn't respond.

The drive back to the station was quiet again, except for the persistent drone of the police frequency, which Connor had elected to keep on 'just in case.' (Hank would have been more content with some music, but apparently he didn't make the decisions around here anymore.) Most of the conversations that played weren't noteworthy, at least not to them, as barely any of them seemed to involve deviants now.

Ever since those deviants brought their ideals of freedom into the public eye, there had been an increase in disappearances but a significant lack of homicide and assault reports involving their peers, as though finding something to guide them had allowed them to better control themselves and their newfound emotions. Hank certainly didn't mind, but Connor, of course, didn't share his opinion. A lack of deviants to investigate meant less answers, and less answers was exactly what he didn't want.

They still had the chance to find answers in the evidence they collected, though, so that was better than nothing. There was just one problem: Looking for Jericho was the number one priority right now, and Hank didn't remember seeing anything about it before.

"You really think you'll find something about Jericho in the evidence?" he asked.

"Yes. If Jericho really is common knowledge among deviants, it has to be in there somewhere. Maybe in that encrypted diary, or in one of the deviants' memories."

Ugh. Hank kept forgetting about the semi-dead androids hanging on the evidence wall.

"If we still can't find anything from that," Connor continued, "we at least know the identity of the deviant leader's former owner... If he's been in contact with him at all, he may know something about him. We could try to—"

A voice suddenly buzzed from the police radio, interrupting him.

"Dispatch, this is patrol 457. Uh, I got a lot of androids down here..."

Connor almost instantly disregarded his planning for the investigation. Not even a second after hearing the word 'androids,' he reached over to turn the volume up.

The dispatcher's response came just as quickly. "Copy, 457. How many are we looking at?"

"I don't know. Hundreds... Thousands?"

Fucking what?

Hank knew there were a lot of deviants now, as liberating the androids from the CyberLife stores had produced plenty of them... but certainly not hundreds to thousands of them.

What the hell happened between last night and now?

These androids couldn't have all become deviants from an emotional shock, so it had to be the so-called virus. If it was, how was it being spread? Were they transferring deviancy to each other all at once? Was that even possible?

Connor had suggested earlier this morning that maybe the root of deviancy involved both theories they had come up with so far: a virus and an emotional shock. Perhaps, he said, the shock that caused deviancy in most cases was actually a catalyst to activate the dormant virus, which could then be spread among other androids. Hank didn't know if he was right, but it did make sense, considering what they'd observed so far.

But maybe the emotional shock wasn't so much about the emotion itself than it was the overall realization that they were capable of acting against what their programs told them in the first place. Maybe what the original deviants were doing in the public eye was altogether a manifestation of that realization, and that realization carried on to other androids who listened to what they had to say.

Maybe Kamski was right. Maybe the desire to be free was a contagious disease.

"What are they doing?" the dispatcher asked, sounding just as astonished as Hank felt.

"They're marching," said the officer.

"They're... marching?"

"Yeah, they're marching down the street."

The conversation was suddenly drowned out by loud chanting in the background.

Hank struggled to hear him, so he gave up on trying, focusing on the marchers' voices instead. He couldn't make out their words, either. "What are they saying?"

Connor's said nothing at first, his eyes narrowed as he tried to make sense of it himself. His voice was quiet when he eventually responded with three familiar words—words that they had seen repeated on walls and surfaces in blood and graffiti and inscrutable mazes. Words that these deviants truly believed.

"We are alive."