gray area | Connor/Reader

gray area

a/n: My first shot at detroit fiction, so of course we're horny for Connor. Here's a too-long oneshot with my all-time favorite trope: cop x criminal!!

I want to emphasize that I have no fucks to give in regards to any of the police work in this, since acab, so if anything is inaccurate... 🤷 Enjoy! Comments are always appreciated, and the smut is bundled nicely in the second chap for you if you just want to skip to that :D

- uncouth-the-fifth

_

A year after the android revolution, and two weeks before today, a hacker slipped easily into the bleeding cracks of Cyberlife's servers.

They deleted nothing. They added nothing. All the hacker did was screenshot a few employee ips, project blueprints, and anything else valuable that they could get their hands on. One of many hacks the company had seen in the fallout of the revolution. You'd paid him to make a few scarier moves than necessary, to throw around his cyber muscle a little bit. Company logins and secrets were useless to you—all you needed was the building schematics, which were only easier to get when Cyberlife was panicking over everything else.

You kept your footing light and easy as the massive geometry of the main lobby hung over your head. Pictures had been all you'd known of Detroit until now, and a lot of the city lived up to the myths they put on postcards. There'd always be a little printed Ambassador bridge, with Book Tower and the Fisher building posing proudly on the front, Cyberlife Tower stoic and handsome beside them. It looks more slouched in real life. Like it was embarrassed, or hunching down to protect itself from being struck.

The secretary's desk looked more like a massive shard of ice than a desk. You watched your reflection twist and fold along the solid edges, brightened by the sunlight thrown off the Detroit River.

When you came close enough, a woman peered skeptically at you from over the tall edge. A nervous shiver slithered down your spine. You realized she wasn't looking at you, but peering innocently at the cascade of engineers and doctors being scanned by the security forcefield. That shiver became a pinch when you raised your foot to pass through with them.

This was it. If you were caught any time today, it would be now. You didn't slow your stride or wince to meet the electronic frame; just kept walking and smirking, like there was no better thing to be than a worker bee at Cyberlife.

It slipped through seamlessly, and right on time, a soothing robotic voice boomed your alias for the entire lobby to hear.

You were in.

Rumors were flying that Cyberlife was in awful shape, but this felt like child's play. From that first step, you knew this would be an embarrassingly easy job.

Easier than Quantico, than the Svalbard Seed Vault. You bustled after the scientists, smiling at the two security guards on either side of the inner arch like your heart wasn't racing. Easier than the Vatican Street Archive. Thefts as grand as these always gave you a touch of stage fright, but after so long, you knew it would calm down on its own. Everything was in place: you knew where you were going, what you were looking for, and the chip in your neck would trick every computer in the building (deviant or not). Still, your breath rattled uneasily in your chest. So you counted the jobs, counted the memories. Easier than the Federal Reserve. Easier than the Bank of England.

Your hacker had sent you the map of the building the night before. 93 floors, 44 above ground. Thinking about it made the floor feel thin, like you were walking on a hundred grave layers. He'd also helpfully offered to type up three more employee IDs for you, but when you'd turned him down, his typing bubble had fluttered in place for a long time. You didn't usually work with him. It wasn't his fault that he didn't know your reputation, but to be fair, it was an unusual one. Few knew your face, but all knew that you always worked alone.