#reed: visage [my memories have started to know me less]

[connywrites]

of flesh and blood 33

start - part [32]

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“Hey, Connor,” Gavin greeted, prompting the android to stop in place, turning his head before he shifted the rest of his body to face Gavin’s direction in the motion of walking past him.

“Hello, detective Reed,” RK800 responded, a slight puzzled expression crossing his facial features with the usual inquisitive swivel of his eyebrows.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

Gavin stood still in place, despite the restlessness crawling beneath his skin. Part of him felt frustrated with the idea of who he used to be, even if that person existed only weeks ago – the worst piece about the ultimately short time spent under RK900’s discipline was the fact that a majority of what it was trying to do worked so effectively, even Gavin didn’t always catch it – understanding now that it ultimately was reckless and unnecessary for him to have acted the way he had before the fact, always expecting the world to fall into his lap by his demand simply because he commanded it to be so. Nines was an ‘experimental’ android; not a prototype but something beyond it, a mimicry machine designed to adapt and integrate in a less personal, yet much more direct manner than the RK800s he had come across, with their generally stoic-but-polite demeanor – at least, if you were on their side. Another reason he’d shot androids from a safe distance was the fact that after he’d seen what they were capable of, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to get his limbs shredded by a metal computer that decided he was a threat. The acknowledgement that he was the threat in the first place only surfaced recently, whirring in his mind and thus leading up to the situation he’d put himself into now.

RK900 was built to reflect him from the start, but he was too distracted and negligent to see it. Too busy treating a sentient machine as if it were an object and reacting with surprise when it started fighting back and demanding some sort of – as his new colleague had said, ‘respect’, or at least some over-the-top version of it – he continued to feel closed in from his vivid memories of its actions. Every bunching of its eyebrows and shift of its pupils, each motion in its wrist when it lifted or placed his drinks, held him down or flicked the belt across his flesh, and the way it learned to deflect his aggression with a version of its own. The snide remarks, the insults, the ugly glares. The heavy, lengthy strides in its step when it crossed the room with its eyes stalking down his own. When his anger had somehow resonated within it until he was on the ground, beaten and bloody. Reminders of his own sadistic behaviors in the past followed him left and right, alongside the RK900 that still hid in the shadows as a phantom of his own paranoia, always watching with judgement while whispering sweet nothings in one ear and vicious demands in the other.

Gavin was well aware Connor was not RK900, and despite their similar external appearance and parallel internal algorithms, they were, ultimately, quite different. Unfortunately, Gavin didn’t know Connor well; he’d simply apologized because Nines asked him to. This time, he wanted to do it himself, for himself, and not because an android had beaten him into submission over the fact.

“I, uh,” he stammered, pausing in place while he considered the question.

“Yeah. Actually,” he began, and Connor looked a bit surprised, unable to imagine anything he could help the detective with at any point in time, let alone right then.

“Well, I don’t need you to do anything, but…I do.” Standing awkwardly in the hallway wasn’t exactly his ideal place for confessions, but he wasn’t sure when or where he’d get the chance otherwise.

“I don’t think I understand,” Connor responded, and Gavin shook his head, unable to help a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he’d almost forgotten how naive this android was, especially in comparison to RK900.

“Haven’t got that far yet,” he pressed, trying to configure a way to put words together so they would make sense to both of them. He sighed, and Connor remained as still as ever, patiently listening.

“I just wanted to see…” Giving into the urge to fold his arms, he paused, forcing the reluctant part of his mind to spit out the sentiment.

“How you were doing.” Once Connor acknowledged that the phrase was easily recognized within his database, figuring out the emotions behind it and putting them together into a logical response was a more difficult process. He cast Gavin a sympathetic stare once he’d understood what he was getting at.

“Oh.“ They hesitantly stared at each other as a few seconds ticked by.

“Well enough, I suppose,” he responded halfheartedly, glancing to the side with a barely-noticeable shrug of mechanical shoulders.

“I mean…you can tell me the truth,” Gavin offered, although with the awareness that a sudden expectancy of honesty from someone like him wasn’t exactly a notion that would seem sincere.

“Is this…about…” Connor’s voice was stiff as he attempted to bury his internal poignance of the situation; from the RK900’s personal damage to Gavin, to Hank’s now rapidly-declining health and his own difficulty trying to convince his superiors he wanted to stay alive when he was the one set up to take care of the rest, as it were. His own deviancy had become apparent to those close to him, but trying to join Jericho now would put him in even more danger, and the heartbreak clutching his chest made it impossible to even consider the idea of leaving Hank’s side. At work, there was no way of acting or speaking outside of his originally programmed behaviors, an intricate process he had to step in line with or he was as good as decommissioned.

“Yes,” Gavin hissed swiftly under his breath, dipping his head forward in indication that they shouldn’t be so loud over the matter, particularly in a place such as the DPD. Connor looked somewhat surprised, but mostly startled by the anxiety that Gavin could recognize by one glance alone; the way brown eyes dilated and stared into the distance, trying to digest his surroundings for what they were with the seemingly disorganized programming he had at his disposal. Wary, Connor turned his head away from Gavin’s direction as the man shifted his weight and lowered his hands to his sides as he made his best attempt at presenting politely despite the glower threatening to tear him down from the visage alone.

Remaining stiff, Connor stared at Gavin with the typical vacant gaze that he personally hated – but this time he dug deeper into the visual connection, pondering just what it meant for an android to replicate human behavior down to eye contact and the intricate movements of speech, even only for show. Over time, Connor had responded differently to the verbal and physical behavior of humanity around ‘it’self, leaving Gavin always wondering if he would stick around, what he might do next, how long the deviant-hunting-deviant might get away with his own antics for the pure sake of Cyberlife dismissing his existence entirely – for better or worse.

“I don’t think I can do anything to help you,” Connor offered with a burst of uncertainty beneath his breath, which Gavin quickly waved off with a nonchalant sway of his hand. It was effective nonetheless, Connor admired, realizing no one had interrupted them despite the strange subject matter of their discussion.

“No, it’s not…” Biting his tongue, Gavin remembered not to talk in such a way that might deter the android he was trying to initiate with.

“Look,” he insisted, catching the RK800’s brunette replicate eyes with his own and holding the android’s attention long enough to listen. The way RK800 responded so specifically, similar to how RK900 had in its early days – replicating human behavior with their own touch of personalized, polite and prim demeanor while they’d watch courteously, hands folded across their front or behind their back – an idea that always left his head spinning while he struggled to understand the exact differences between the recent RK models. At times like this, it was difficult not to pinpoint every similarity of their facial structures down to the same freckle. Textures, he thought to himself, like in video games. They just slapped the same thing onto a different doll.

Anderson had spent much more time with Connor than he personally had with Nines, and the difference was more apparent by the day, yet mostly within his head when his mind blanked at the idea of sentience within a computation device, an event that continued to baffle him with more cognizance than he was generally willing to offer. In his short time with the RK900, he’d learned little in favor of what the robot had discovered from himself, despite the android’s incessant need to monologue and monitor his behavior until he fell asleep, as it sometimes seemed.

“I just… I know a few words won’t make up for it. I already, er, sorta apologized, but…it didn’t mean anything,” he said with a small huff of acknowledgement, frustrated at himself for getting stuck in these sorts of situations and taking a few seconds to think of what to say lest he shove his foot in his mouth. Connor watched him, expression seeming to soften with patience as he digested the sincerity in Gavin’s voice. Waiting his turn, he dipped his chin politely to show that he was listening without verbal response; unfortunately it left Gavin all the more uncomfortable being put beneath the metaphorical spotlight.

“There’s no way I can take back what I did. I know that.” Uttering such words was ultimately some sort of painful, but it was the strange guilt stirring within him that continued driving him forth. Connor stared attentively, digesting his words for what they were as well as he could.

“Sorry for trying to take you down. I thought you were getting in the way of my success, but…after what I went through, I can tell you’re really just here to help. I shouldn’t have been a dick to you. You’re Anderson’s partner, anyways. I didn’t have much to do with it.” This time, Connor’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, showing he didn’t expect more than another sorry, let alone an explanation, alongside the fact Gavin realized what he’d done wrong and admitted so out loud. Perhaps he really has changed.

“I appreciate that,” Connor offered in response, but his puzzled expression showed he was still a bit perplexed.

“And the insults, and the threats,” Gavin continued in a quieter voice, feeling the blush creep across his cheeks from the embarrassment of confessing his own faults. Taking the blame for something that he’d directly caused wasn’t something he was practiced at, and Connor could tell, leading him to eventually accept the apology for the entirety of what it was once he could tell it was sincere.

“Thank you,” Connor responded with a halfhearted smile.

“It doesn’t matter now, and I understand why you had acted the way that you did.” It was Gavin’s turn to look confused, dimming his gaze with narrowed eyes and a tilt of his head, silently prompting Connor to elaborate.

“Androids are a threat to humanity and their civilization. That’s why I exist, after all. As to why I’m still here…” his opticals grew distant as he shrugged lightly, and a pang of something rang in Gavin’s chest that he did his best to ignore. As time went on and his interactions with other people expanded, he’d started to see why Nines shoved down every affrontive emotion it had come across, as he did exactly the same thing; and he was the one it learned from, after all.

“Right,” Gavin rang with acknowledgement, side-eyeing the android as he nodded once.

“So what’s the verdict? They gonna toss you in the scrap bin?” Connor acknowledged his callous phrasing, as it always was with Gavin, before offering one of his single-sided smirks. The subject was difficult, but he wasn’t sure exactly how much sympathy was offered over the matter, whether they made amends or not.

“I suppose I’ve only been delaying the inevitable,” he said with a small sigh that followed, a behavior Gavin noted he’d never seen from the android before. Then again, he hadn’t paid much attention, not really knowing Connor too well in the first place – or whatever personality was integrated into him. Every once in a while, he still saw Nines’ face, constantly reminding himself that while Connor could be just as callous, the androids and their intentions were significantly different. A bold fear rang in the back of his mind and tugged at the memories, making him somewhat afraid the same thing might happen to RK800, before canceling out the thought with the fact it was Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s android, and while Connor would likely pick up a lot of that older man’s bitter attitude, he knew he was one of the safest, best people on the team to work with, and likely why Connor hadn’t been thrown out yet at all. The situation of RK900 already being gone, so swiftly after constantly being at his side for those couple of months still resonated in him with an unfamiliar feeling. It showed he hadn’t quite adapted to the concept yet as he’d still glanced over his shoulder, always expecting it to be hovering beside him.

“I’m still a prototype, and the new model is already here. I think if the lieutenant’s…accident, hadn’t taken place,” he continued with the typical lack of tact he always seemed to carry, “they might not have been so sympathetic. We’re starting to have politics now…if I’m lucky, maybe I won’t get thrown out after all.” The word lucky was weighted, heavy in his throat as he felt the vibration of his own speaker with the depth of the word, one of those more human inflections to his character post-deviancy.

“Huh. And here I thought he didn’t like you,” Gavin stated with his usual boldness, shifting back to one heel and digging the nails of his fingers into his palms without much thought as the tension of his old and worn fight-or-flight instincts tried to kick up. At what, he wasn’t sure, as the anxiety was a majority of what he dimmed down with the alcohol in-between taking his prescribed medications designated for him and his brain alone, a thought that still thoroughly disturbed him. The fact they seemed to actually work if he was consistent with them for a few weeks straight was predominantly haunting, but the ritual was rare. His mind wasn’t so organized, no matter how hard RK900 tried to change and repair it.

“He didn’t,” Connor responded immediately, tipping his head slightly to the side in another subtle matter that made Gavin’s fingers curl.

“Not at first, and I’m sure I’m still not his favorite person to be around, but I know there’s been worse.” Blinking, he noticed the accidental enunciation of an otherwise general phrase, averting his gaze with a meek expression while he quickly thought of what to say next to counteract the awkwardness. Gavin’s glared pointedly, and Connor felt like he should take a step back, but lifted his head to face him as he’d already learned avoidance only tended to worsen moments like this.

“…My turn to apologize, I suppose. Cyberlife limits the information they share, and as it’s usually me reporting to them, I see why the situation was challenging. I’m sorry it went on as long as it did.”

Gavin didn’t know what to do with the sympathetic statement, struck with a blank expression as his hands uncurled by his sides, tension easing. That was nice to hear. It was better than anything he’d heard from anyone, and he paused in a moment to try and appreciate the gesture, but it wasn’t such an easy pill to swallow.

“I realize the intention was that no one was to know, but I’m glad that we do. Maybe now we can do something about it.” With his head turning away, Connor less-than-subtly glanced in the direction of Fowler’s office, a directive of opinion wrapped up in a minuscule communication that he was well aware Gavin would nonetheless understand. After a moment, he moved to face him again, lifting his chin in a moment of self-recollection while he tightened the knot of his tie out of what might as well be ingrained habit.

“Thank you for communicating with me, Detective Reed. I know it isn’t your greatest asset, and I’m not exactly your best friend, either – but I appreciate not being shot on a regular basis, more than I already am on the job.” Gavin nearly looked baffled by the bold, nigh on wittiness of the phrase, and the wink flashed his way was something he’d never personally seen between either of the RK models; meaning Connor had learned it or was pre-programmed to come off as charming as much as he did inquisitive, determined, and sometimes nearly adolescent in nature. Childish. Was that part of the attraction

With the dismissal of the supposedly superior model, it was easier to see and better understand Connor’s differences down to the smaller quirks. With a pained attempt at a smile, Gavin squinted as it reoccurred to him how long he’d been on the force without his precious pistol. The memory of having it shoved into his mouth while gleaming, cold silver eyes targeted him sent an uncomfortable shudder through his body.

Connor gestured Gavin to follow him. Confused, but interested, he stepped behind him as Connor made way to the break room. Avoiding the coffee machine, the android stepped over to the water dispenser, pouring some fresh, cold filtered liquid into one of the Styrofoam cups before holding it out to Gavin, predetermining another smack to the arm as he assumed the drink would be knocked from his hold, a prediction based off the fact he’d done it before rather than the assumption he may not this time.

“I know it annoys you, but even I am designed to keep my teammate’s best interest in mind. Coffee and alcohol will dehydrate you worse, and you’re in bad shape already.”

“Thanks, doctor,” was all Gavin quietly countered with as he took the cup and gulped down the contents, surprised to find how energizing it was to hydrate with something cold and refreshing. Connor offered a more genuine smile, snagging the cup before Gavin had the chance to toss it so he could refill it and offer it back; Gavin already agreed, it was annoying, but said nothing of it.

“Whatever. At least I don’t have to deal with the new android on the team this time. You, er, seen that weasel yet? Don’t remember his name, don’t really care.” Connor acknowledged the lack of transition words in his sentences, a habit he hadn’t seen come from Gavin in long enough he had to track back on his internal calendar to recall the last incident, which appeared to be five and a half weeks ago, minus a few hours. A sense of depression weighed him down at the realization, noticeable by the slouch of his shoulders and the weary gaze in his eyes as he handed Gavin the refilled cup of water. Gavin took it, but held onto it meanwhile as he listened to Connor speak.

“Peter Maximillian Schwarz. He’s an FBI agent that’s been on the international operations since he was twenty-two, an unusual occurrence as most people have to pass through numerous study courses first, as you know,” Connor continued with a look of confusion at himself for over-explaining.

“The German police force was impressed enough by his wit they took him on as soon as he could, as he’d easily passed the college tests that most aged professors wouldn’t be able to finish. He’d be a contestant even to our chief and lieutenant, so frankly, I’m glad he’s on our team,” he elaborated, gaining a miffed, but interested quirk of Gavin’s eyebrows, cheeks puffing in thought and crinkling the lines around his nose and narrowed eyes.

“Nothing should change for you and me aside from the fact we have extra help with our most difficult investigations. On the bright side, once you and Anderson graduate, then you’ll be the next highest-up on the team,” he said with a nigh on chipper tone. With an involuntary smirk tugging at his features, Gavin quickly hid it behind his cup as he took a slower, smaller sip from it.

“What about Collins?” Connor shook his head, a subtle twitch flickering in the corners of his eyelids, that infamous blue LED rotating a few times as he relayed information about the co-worker in the usual motion of relisting the data from his archive, ensuring it was correct.

“Well,” he began, and the way he seemed to grimace was another response Gavin hadn’t seen before.

“He hasn’t been too eager to work here since he started, from what I do know. With people like you, Anderson and androids like myself and others on the team, his work has been, well…” Connor let out a gust of air he didn’t mean to retain.

“He’s going to file for early retirement, and I don’t exactly blame him.” Gavin didn’t seem shocked.

“He’s still got six years before they’ll even consider him,” Gavin noted. Connor acknowledged the statement with subtle agreement by blinking in his general direction and another slight nod that wouldn’t be noticeable if he wasn’t paying attention. While 900 was subtle, he appreciated that Connor was a bit more animated in aspect of personality – predesigned or otherwise – as his previous ‘partner’ wouldn’t extend more movement than it deemed necessary, hence its consistent statue-esque, stoic gaze no matter the situation, thus resonating its characteristic soullessness. Connor was polite and interactive, and this wasn’t the first time he’d considered the differences between them, as the similarities might otherwise send his mind crumbling once more.

“Without providing too much personal information, let’s say he has negative mental health in his favor. While there is not much lenience, as times change, so do laws and regulations. Let’s hope he gets lucky.”

This was the second in one conversation time he’d heard Connor mention lucky, as if it were up to an interpretive roll of some divine dice that would make the circumstances change, even though a supercomputer would know every detail of the algorithms between law and government that he could never comprehend. Did Connor believe in fate, or was it a phrase for lack of not knowing the future, specifically?

“And if he’s not?” Connor pursed his lips into a fine line, worrying his teeth against the internal ‘skin’.

“Then he continues working as a detective until then, unless he can prove his hard work otherwise.”

Lost in a moment of thought, Gavin contemplated the rank of everyone in the DPD in a mental chart he’d memorized, half makeshift from their positions in a visual chart listed top to bottom, from Chief Fowler to officers Chen and Miller.

“Right,” Gavin responded, and while empathy resonated in his chest, he didn’t have the words to label it for what it was. Something ached, something strange, something like caring. The way he’d become closer to his coworkers, and even his new neighbors through his suffering was an odd concept in itself, and the involuntary responses throughout his mind and body weren’t generally enjoyable, let alone easy to adjust to. While he worked so hard to achieve his means, he’d forgotten that many people could do their best and more, yet still fall short – of all things, he should know. The idea of his upcoming court date floated through his mind, immediately dismissed with a sigh.

“What about you, Gavin?” There was a sense of innocence in Connor’s voice that he caught onto, as well as the use of his first name, an unusual moniker among peers in a professional setting.

“What are you going to do now?” Leering, Gavin drank down the rest of his water, catching Connor’s eye with a half-smirk as he quickly tossed the empty cup to the trash and even making it into the bin this time with enough speed to intercept any more of Connor’s courteous gestures.

“Same as always,” he said gruffly, darkened by a lack of confidence.

“Work the daily grind ‘til I go home and finish my routine for the night. Rinse, repeat.” Connor wasn’t sure what that meant, and was also unsure whether he should ask, so he didn’t.

#dbh: connor #dbh: gavin reed #I SAID I HAD CHAPTERS N BOY DO I