[COMPLETED] Corrupted (Connor X Reader)

"Jesus Christ, stop scratching — you're gonna make me itch."

You froze, fingers stilling over your sweater as Hank's outburst caused Connor to whirl around and stare at you, frowning.

"You shouldn't scratch. You could mess up the healing process," Connor scolded.

"Sorry," You muttered halfheartedly and resumed staring out the window at the passing landscape.

Hank's old car trundled through the thick snow, rocking slowly. You tensed in the backseat, anticipating a flash of pain, but thankfully, the motion didn't disturb the ache in your side. You let loose a relieved exhale.

Connor's gaze darted back to you, and his brown eyes narrowed perceptively. "I told you that you should have stayed home and rested."

"And I told you that I'm not going to just stay home and hope Amanda waits for me to get better."

Hank failed to stifle a chuckle as Connor sighed in exasperation, "There weren't any more victims while you were recovering. Markus's ban on interfacing and your antivirus have kept her from spreading."

"But she learns, Connor," You bit your lip, voicing the concern that plagued you since you'd realized Amanda was behind this, "She was designed to learn and adapt — she'll find a way around the interfacing ban and antivirus given enough time."

Connor didn't seem to have a response to that. With his LED slowly cycling yellow, he turned his gaze forward, before announcing, "We're here."

The car slowed, and you craned forward to catch sight of a massive geometric house perched atop the snowy hill.

Holy shit, you thought, a familiar nervousness twisting in your gut as Connor pushed the passenger seat forward to help you out of his side of the car. With the house's harsh edges and sleek black walls, you felt like you were staring at a part of CyberLife — well, you supposed it was a part of CyberLife in a sense. You hadn't noticed you were nervously itching the area around your nano-stitches again until a firm hand enveloped yours and pulled it away from the site.

"...Connor?"

He didn't say anything, instead intertwining his fingers with the ones that had just been scratching at the burning beneath your sweater, giving you a stern look that said 'stop itching and calm down.' You flushed slightly but nodded before following Connor up the railed walkway, ducking your head against the flurries of snow that drifted down.

Hank reached the door first and rang the bell, before stepping back, glancing over his shoulder at your joined hands, and shooting you an exasperated look.

"Really?" He sighed.

Connor smirked, a quick jerk of one side of his lips, and Hank shook his head before turning back to ring the doorbell again. Just as he reached out, the sleek door swung open to reveal an ST200 — or was this the original RT600, Chloe? — wearing a navy dress, with her blonde ponytail draped over one shoulder, and blue eyes blinking at Hank.

"Oh, Lieutenant Anderson and Connor. Welcome back." Her mouth stretched into a bright grin as she moved aside and extended an arm to welcome them in. "Please, come in."

Hank hesitated for a moment, shifting side to side before finally stepping over the threshold, followed by you and Connor. The warmth of the house washed over your skin, and you tried to contain your awe as you looked around the room. It matched the outside of the house, impeccable in sharp, sleek lines and reflective surfaces, broken by the plush rug on the floor, and the enormous portrait of Elijah Kamski centered on the opposing wall.