Deviant Behavior (Connor x Reader)

November 8th, 2038
PM 06:53:48

Sweat beaded on your forehead, mixing with the freezing rain that'd heated on contact with your skin and melted snow. You had a headache. Felt weak. Tried to swallow the itch in your throat. It wouldn't leave.

You turned your chin, staring at a group of civilians huddled over a barrel fire. Violent chills rattled your body, shivering in a wet jacket that stuck to the police cruiser's leather seats.

What better role in society for a spy to be placed than in the police force that set up barricades and closed streets, funneling free spirits into neatly organized corridors and detours?

You sniffed and coughed into a fist before returning it to your lap.

"Sounds like you're getting sick." Chris kept driving, his voice low and somber.

Your temperature was running high – a symptom of an underlying condition. A natural bodily defense against infection.

And your body was fighting off something, alright.

The wolf that swore to serve and protect law and order. The wolf that howled defiantly at the moon, a celestial figure that directed the tides of change. The embers of their war had been carried on strong winds, gliding under your wings until everything was hot to the touch.

Connor led the others as they'd tried to throw sand on that fire; to snuff it out and keep it contained. You'd turned his efforts into plains of glass, lined with sharp edges that marked a lair where angels feared to tread. Used the planks of his safe harbor for kindle and set fire to the sails he'd tried to help you sew.

A firestorm had purged your humane impurities and hammered down a new frame under your flesh. The strongest steel is forged in the hottest fires, as they say.

"Just a fever."

In a world where even choices born of free will had to be bound by civil justice, you hadn't known how strong you were until being strong was the only choice you had left.

"Get anything useful out of the android?"

He huffed, cracking his wrist as it rested on the steering wheel, "You just keep pretending like everything's alright, don't you?"

Your neck whipped around, face crinkling in irritation, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not actually stupid." He glared at you from under the rim of his hat before focusing on the road, "I'm a good cop. And you're tied up in something big. I can feel it."

"What?"

"My spidey senses are tingling."

You rubbed your temples, "What are you talking about?"

"I saw pictures, in the house. Pictures that Saul couldn't talk about." He rolled his shoulders, fidgeting in his seat, "You, in a dress...with Elijah goddamn Kamski and Carl freakin' Manfred."

A vice clamped your chest, squeezing the glass case around a heart that throbbed. The crystalline dust from each splintering crack cut at your lungs.

"I know you have questions-"

"And I know you can't answer them. But I can put two and two together..."

You inhaled, body shaking as you let it out.

"An ex-husband you never talk about. Your name hidden in the system. Going out on some rogue mission with Anderson and Connor to a place you can't disclose. I get it."