Play Date

The Bridge

This is far from how Connor had expected this evening to go. Lieutenant Anderson had derailed the evening by driving them to a playground and drinking profusely. This was as far from the investigation as it could get. Hank was just sitting on a bench, poisoning himself, and Connor was pacing in front of him impatiently.

Hank's human weaknesses were starting to frustrate Connor but he had no words to describe it. He didn't have emotions, after all. All he knew was that he wanted to do something. Possibly to Hank. Perhaps something violent, but then again maybe not. It was confusing.

The Eden Club had clearly distressed Lieutenant Anderson since he had been acting strangely since meeting those deviants. Connor hadn't yet reasoned why. He wasn't aware machines could have such an effect on him, given his previously stated hatred.

His first assumption had been anger. Anger at them for being deviants or perhaps toward Connor for letting them escape. But Connor had observed him angry before. This time felt... different. One of the main differences being that he was currently holding a gun to Connor's head, so there was that. That was certainly a new trick.

15% chance he will fire.

Connor wasn't concerned. His relationship with Lieutenant Anderson was tense but the man had clearly warmed up to him. He would go as far as calling them friendly. At least, he would have, before Hank had a gun trained on his forehead. He didn't think that was a normal action for friends.

"What'll happen if I pull this trigger? Hmm? Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?" His tone was uncertain and slightly antagonistic. He was evidently attempting to provoke a reaction.

"I doubt there's a heaven for androids." Connor wasn't sure what he felt. He didn't want to be killed but despite the gun between them, he had no fear of Hank. He felt safe with him and knew he wouldn't shoot him. Intentionally, at least. He was drunk enough for a misfire.

"Having existential doubts, Connor?" Lieutenant Anderson sounded almost victorious somehow. It seemed Connor was falling into whatever trap he was setting. "Sure you're not going deviant too?"

Connor's thirium felt cold suddenly. A strange feeling of dread coursed through his veins. If he were a deviant, Cyberlife would kill him. They would take him apart piece by piece to find out what went wrong.

I am not deviant.

"I self-test regularly. I know what I am, and what I am not." He spoke with conviction he didn't have. Hank's gun was shaking. Hank was shaking. He seemed more distressed than angry.

Connor wasn't sure why, but he felt the need to touch him. Connor reached out and gently took Hank's wrist between his hands. Hank lowered the gun as he did so but Connor didn't release him, instead, he stepped closer with the motion. He knew he was now entering what humans called "personal space" but he needed to take the chance.

"Please... Put away the gun. You have been drinking. I do not want you to accidentally hurt yourself." Connor spoke softly. Softer than he had ever spoken before. Comforting people was programmed into him, but he had trouble actually performing this task. Now was different, somehow.

"I'm not going to shoot myself." Hank huffed. He sounded offended by the notion. Connor decided the statistics on accidental gun discharge would not help here.

"By accident or on purpose? You've already admitted your poor mental health by playing Russian roulette with yourself. That sounds quite risky to me." Connor kindly pointed out. Connor felt victorious as Hank's face twisted in irritation. Hank was now as uncomfortable as Connor had been when he accused him of being deviant.

Fair is fair.

"Fuck off!" Hank hissed and tried to yank his wrist away from Connor. Connor only held tighter, almost painfully. A little painful, actually. Connor was physically stronger than Hank, by quite a lot, and now the human would know it. Hank seemed thrown off by his show of dominance. He gave Connor a weird look."What the hell are you doing?"