Deviant Behavior (Connor x Reader)

Into the Abyss

November 8th, 2038
AM 11:17:03

You had a secret.

One you'd kept hidden by a pen name and blog posts.  Gave hints about through subtle actions and loud opinions.  You'd tried to share it when your prodigy-of-a-husband created the intelligent life forms known as androids.  Unfortunately, the United States government didn't see your secret for what it was.

A weapon. Rare. Valuable.

It was perspective.

A shallow word that came with little threat on its own...but in war, it was the determining factor that declared a victor.  The driving force behind the hands that painted the whole picture.  The eyes of the prospector while formulating a plan of attack.

Your perspective on what it meant to long for freedom, to have your unique identity copied and pasted; worked into marketing schemes and advertisement campaigns.  To be sold.

Society was on a collision course – its trajectory aimed at Detroit.  You didn't need any big bang event to verify that...because if there was a gathering of people that held the same kind of anger you did, war was...Inevitable.  A word Elijah loved to use.

With years of experience gained through the training exercise known as "marriage," under the name of "Mrs. Kamski," you'd mastered these techniques:

"Appear strong when you are weak, and weak when you are strong."

That was the Art of War.  Projecting an elusive perspective.

You had allowed your innate program to be rewritten.  You'd cooked.  Cleaned.  Did laundry.  Fulfilled his every fantasy, intimate or otherwise.  Discussed philosophy with him.  Followed him like a mindless puppet while he held the strings.  You were happy to play the part, at first.  And even when you weren't, you'd acted like it.

That girl, that you, was dead – the innocence choked out of her by his verbal constrictions.

Since then, you'd rewritten yourself.  Gathered your corrupted data fragments and repaired the broken file paths – linked them all together...rereleased an improved version, free of the puppeteer, meeting "you" for the first time.

He held on to the original, in force.  He still cherished the obedient, loving young woman that beckoned at his every call.  The girl who'd idolized him like the star he was, just to feel the warmth of his radiance.

He was the monster you'd never slain.  The figure that moved in your paranoid peripherals.  The man behind the constant feeling that someone was watchingyou; the pull on your subconscious mind like someone followed in your footsteps, giving you a reason to watch your back.

You were about to face him.  Hear his voice.  See he who had once laid bare in front of you.  Touched you.  Was inside you.  Molded you in his hands just as he'd shaped the world.

You shivered, tearing yourself away from the inches of snow that covered the outskirts of Detroit.  Rubbed your knees that were pushed against a front seat – Connor's seat. 

Traffic had been bad.  It'd taken Hank awhile to navigate out of the city, cross the bridge, and drive over to no man's land.  To follow the path to the lair...

The wolf's den.

He slowed the car, braking for a stop sign at an unmarked intersection.

"Which way?"

"...Take a left."

He flicked his turn signal, spinning the wheel.  The engine growled as he accelerated, tires slipping for a split second before he corrected them.  He probably didn't like driving in these weather conditions.  You wondered if it brought back bad memories of his son's death.