Deviant Behavior (Connor x Reader)

Software Instability Detected

"Talk to me."

You wanted to share this intimate moment with him for a little while longer, but you pulled back and gave him space.  Your hand left him, and you leaned back into your seat.

"What happened at the Eden Club?"

He was breathing deep – something that seemed odd for an android.  His eyes clamped shut, his jawline shifting as he swallowed.  The space around his LED tensed, and the color stabilized to blue.

"It started at Lieutenant Anderson's house...and a game called Russian Roulette."

...

He'd told you about going to Hank's, how he found him passed out on the floor with a revolver.  A .357 Magnum, much like yours – but with one bullet in the chamber.  He'd described how Hank attempted to get his dog, Sumo, to attack him; giving him "positive reinforcement," even when he didn't.  He had mentioned a plethora of sticky notes on Hank's bathroom mirror and inquired about one that read, "Keep Sailing," something Hank said often.  His question was if the message was linked to Hank's ringtone in your phone.  It was.  He'd asked a less light-hearted question about a picture of Cole Anderson, Hank's deceased son.  You'd declined to answer.

He'd walked you through the arrival at the crime scene; how Gavin and Chris were already there.  How Gavin had referred to him as Hank's "plastic pet," and how Chris remained civil and professional.  He admired him.  He'd referred to him as his, "friend."

When the topic shifted to the murder itself...things were less clear.

Connor was less...stable.

"Lieutenant Anderson and I deduced that Michael Graham died of asphyxiation rather than cardiac arrest.  There was a deactivated android in the room...a WR400 Traci model.  I was able to temporarily reactivate it..."  He looked away, "It said Graham was hitting it... 'again, and again...' It told us it wasn't the murderer.  Our investigation led us to the club's warehouse...I found the deviant.  Both of them."

"'Both of them?'"

"There were two female Tracis.  One of them was the murderer, and the other was its accomplice.  There was a struggle.  They resisted.  I chased them outside to the loading bay.  I was struck down, I landed next to a gun, I had them in my sights, and I-"

His light flashed yellow.  You were starting to lose him again.

"Easy, Connor." You tried your best to stay calm, "You're doing great."

His eyes lifted to you, and he settled himself.

"The deviant told me it didn't mean to kill Michael.  That it wanted to stay alive, and get back to the one it loved and be held in its arms-" He pursed his lips, "Machines don't feel love...Our emotions are simulated, an imitation of-"

"That's not true."

"NOTHING is true anymore." He growled, "I saved Lieutenant Anderson and let Rupert get away.  I decided not to shoot the two deviants at the Eden Club.  Even after Lieutenant Anderson told me 'it was better off' that way, I still...I'm designedto accomplish a task.  If I keep failing, CyberLife will..."

The fact that Hank had approved of Connor sparing the deviants threw you off...but if Connor was implying what you thought he was...

"They'll what?"

"They'll deactivate me."

His warning hit you in the chest.  A belt slipped in your brain, knocking your heart in response.

"Lieutenant Anderson held a gun to my head and asked me if I was afraid to die," He slammed the wheel with his palms, "I shouldn't be afraid to be deactivated!"

"Wait, wait, hold on...First of all, be careful with that.  It's old." You nodded to your steering wheel, "Second, Hank did what?"

"He said those two girls really seemed in love.  Asked me what I really was.  He held a gun to my head, asked me if I was afraid to die, and then questioned what would happen if he pulled the trigger."  His face was pained as it fell, "I told that I'm whatever he wants me to be.  That I would find it regrettable to be interrupted.  That, if he shot me...There would be nothing.  No more being his partner or working at the DCPD station.  No more 'happy hours' or illegal gambling with Officer Miller and the rest of the unit." His shoulders shook, and he found you through his sadness, "No more reading, or engaging conversations.  No more you..."

He watched you as if waiting for reprimand.  To be told he was wrong, and that his feelings were fake, and his ideas were irrelevant.  He was practically beggingto be put out of his misery.

"Come on..." You frowned, pulling away from him, "...Let's go home."

Snow had formed a thin veil over the windshield.  The quiet, crisp specs piled on top of each other.  They shook as his hesitation expired, and the engine roared to life.

Your nerves stilled, and the building tension flatlined.  Everything had become clear, in the wake of his near self-destruction.

Connor was becoming a deviant, and it was your fault.