After his citywide demand was broadcast, all he really had to do was wait. The contents of the black bag were situated, the things he no longer needed tossed aside.
The worst part was how casually he walked away from the tower. Anyone who caught sight of him got as far away as possible, which made his walking much, much easier. And of course, if anyone tried to contact the police, it would lead nowhere. Corpses were notoriously unreliable.
[Letting Reed escape was a mistake, though a minor one. He can do nothing to me.]
At least for the time being, Connor had some shred of rationality. Those in his way on the sidewalk were unharmed, though he began to wonder why no one had tried to contact him yet. Surely the warning was enough to get someone's attention?
His expression darkened a touch, wiping the thirium slowly dripping from his nose. It was mildly tiresome, but it wasn't as though he couldn't get more. Once he'd gotten you back, you would tend to him like you always had.
[... Hank, what are you waiting for? Bring her. Do not make me set the devices off, just because you think keeping her away will somehow benefit you.]
Was that it? Your boyfriend stopped in his tracks, causing a random citizen to walk right into him. A quick snap of their neck solved that problem.
[Are you keeping my girlfriend away from me, Hank? She says otherwise, but... You wouldn't hesitate to go to extreme lengths in the name of "helping" me.]
The anger started to build again, so much so that he almost didn't sense the earthquake.
Well... less of a true earthquake, but there was certainly a lot of rumbling in the distance. It was growing louder as it approached, and Connor's eyes narrowed.
With the rumbling came scattered screams from onlookers, and it wasn't difficult to see why: he was charging towards himself.
He was told that he was the last of his model, that the rest were destroyed. But running full speed his way were at least six dozen RK800 androids. He didn't know how they'd been found, after all, but whoever was responsible for waking them clearly labeled him as the target.
Connor watched for another moment before casually dropping his bag. Two belts were pulled out, both attached to his waist under the jacket, and another firearm just in case. Tossing aside the empty bag, your bodyguard removed one of the grenades from its belt, pulled the pin with his teeth, and bolted down an alley on the side.
Only when he knew the other models were funneling their way in behind him, some taking side routes, did he release the trigger and toss it behind him as he ran.
Judging by the explosion and the crumbling of wood and concrete, at least a dozen of his pursuers were out of the race.
If they wanted to take him down, they'd have to get creative. They'd just woken up, fresh out of CyberLife; Connor had a long time to develop evasive maneuvers. Even if he was the one being chased, the concept was the same.
He wall-ran along one brick building to get past a model who happened to think outside the box. A single bullet to the back of the head ensured he wouldn't get back up. But narrow paths and obstacles wouldn't help him whatsoever.
It was like herding sheep, in a way. Your boyfriend needed to get them all grouped up enough to eliminate all of them. So he led them out into an open street, towards a small park. In a sick coincidence, it was the one on 82nd Avenue, where he'd escorted you to the café across the street.
Where you'd gotten shot.
Fueled by the rage once more, Connor looked behind him as he slowed down in the middle of the park. Nearby, a flash of gray caught his eye, and the realization struck him hard.
The horde following him was just a part of the army sent to destroy him. There were still more coming from every direction. Instead of herding them, they'd cornered him.
Like he did, the models slowed to a stop, completely surrounding the lone, infected android. While it would have given anyone else the creeps, Connor just... smiled. "Hello, Connor," he called out. "Would you like to give the customary speech before a battle? Or should we get right to the point?"
They were talking amongst one another, internally so they wouldn't be heard. Maybe strategy, maybe options. But one did speak up at last. "Android Model Number RK800, Iteration Number 50, you are being ordered to stand down!"
Interesting. "By whose orders?" As soon as your name passed the model's lips, Connor's sanity cracked a little bit more. You? Sending his model to track him down? What were you doing, stalling him?! He just wanted to find you! "... give me her location and I'll surrender," he replied carefully. His hands shook, fully prepared to retaliate.
Your requests were to detain him. Nothing about giving your location. But none of them spoke, despite not knowing the whole situation.
Realizing they weren't going to answer, your bodyguard stuffed his hands into his pockets. "It seems we've reached an impasse. You were ordered to detain me, not damage me. But if I don't know where she is, I'm afraid I won't stand down." A good deal of the army tensed a little, sensing a fight. The smile reappeared on Connor's face. "Tell you what. Deliver her to me, then I'll stand down."
"We cannot do that," was the same model's response.
Well, then. "If that is the case, then I only have one request."
"Being?"
"Go fuck yourself."
[Are you proud of me now, Hank?]
As they closed in, Connor just pulled another pin from a grenade, then another, throwing them to either side.
The explosions could be heard for miles.
(Connor, stop hitting yourself.)
YOU ARE READING
Virus (Yandere Connor x Reader)
Fanfiction[COMPLETED] Algorithm: A set of instructions or rules designed to solve a definitive problem. The problem may be as simple as adding two numbers or as complex as ridding the city of whosoever stands in your way.
