[COMPLETED] Corrupted (Connor X Reader)

Everything was dark - Not the kind of dark that your eyes adjusted to with time, but endless sheets of black that destroyed any hope of orienting yourself with your surroundings. This was the kind that made you wonder if your eyes were even open. You couldn't move. A heaviness pressed into your body, trapping you. When you tried to use your lips to cry for help, no sound came out.

You couldn't see. You couldn't move. You couldn't speak.

But you could feel. Fire burned in your lungs from lack of air. When you tried to take a breath, something crushed your throat. Your instinct was to claw at it, alleviate the pressure, but your body wouldn't - no, couldn't move.

What was happening?

You begged your eyes to work, to see something. You needed to know what was happening, where you were, because there was nothing other than the pain of suffocating.

Where was Connor?

That was weird. Why did you think of him? Suddenly, the pressure vanished at the same time a gunshot sounded. You could see again, but immediately wished you couldn't.

Connor stood over you with a gun outstretched in one hand, pointed in your direction. His face was an expressionless mask as he knelt next to you in the puddle of quickly-spreading thirium, regarding you indifferently. It was the scariest you'd ever seen him look - like you were back in the interrogation room being accused of murder. Your blue-stained fingers lifted from your sides, reaching for him.

He vanished, leaving you alone.

And then the darkness returned.

"What was I supposed to do, Hank? She couldn't breathe!"

"The hell if I know, but Jesus, Connor, you didn't have to execute the guy! I haven't seen you look that cold in a month!"

"I do not feel any temperature-related discomfort."

"Not the-" Hank groaned, "You know what, never mind. We'll just get her neck checked out, and then let her get back to whatever it is she does behind CyberLife's back."

"Hank, you didn't see what I did. She got something from that AX400. The computer malfunctioned before she could tell me what it was, but she's already had more success than I did with the first three androids."

A non-commital grunt came from the front seat. The car rocked slightly as it slowed and then sped up again. Something warm pressed against your check - Scratchy fabric, maybe denim?

"Okay, so maybe she can get more off those androids than you," Hank finally spoke up again, "But she's not a cop. She didn't sign up for this."

"I understand Hank, but I have the feeling she'll wish to continue."

"A 'feeling,' huh?" Amusement crept into his voice.

Connor hesitated, "That is to say... based on previous evidence and understanding of her character-"

"Connor, stop," Hank cut him off, "None of that analysis crap... especially not after I just watched you shoot a guy straight through the head."

"My apologies."

"Don't-" Another sigh sounded from the front seat, "Why don't you play with your quarter or something?"

"My hands are otherwise occupied at the moment."

Hank didn't respond to that, and the car fell back into silence except for the soft rumbling of its engine. You slowly grew aware of laying in the backseat, cheek against the denim and your hands curled by your chest. Experimentally, you twitched your fingers. They moved. You tried wiggling your toes next. They moved as well.