[It should be one more routine step of their investigation. 'Should be' is the operative phrase. Connor should expect chases by this point, but he runs subroutines that allow him to stay alert. The deviant takes off just as Hank is going to handcuff it and Connor is off after it. It carries them up into the higher levels of the factory, across conveyors, and before Connor can catch it, the deviant disappears.
Or seems to, as it catches Connor by surprise by dropping down onto him on one of the raised platforms. The deviant is an RK700, the model just before Connor, smarter and faster than previous iterations of this chase. In a matter of moments, Connor is turned on his front, his neck plates ripped away, and the factory reset button pressed down.
[It’s Hank’s fault the deviant gets away. His fault that Connor takes off running after it.
Before he can yell “Jesus Christ,” Connor is gone. And Hank can’t hope to match his speed, nor his seemingly endless stamina. He’s only human — and old, at that.
Part of him trusts Connor to make the right decision: don’t engage if the situation is too dangerous. Don’t fucking engage. But Hank isn’t up there to pull him back by the scruff of his neck, so why would he? Why would he choose self preservation at all?
It’s taking Hank too goddamn long to find Connor. He’s panting for breath after all these stairs, all this aimless wandering.
Muttering under his breath:] Fucking android always taking off. Fuckin’ A.
[But it’s quiet — too quiet — beyond the hums of the factory. No sounds of stamping feet. No sounds of a struggle.
It takes Hank too long to find Connor. Unmoving. Facedown.]
[The deviant holds Connor down by his neck, his grip firm as Connor's mental clock continues to count.
6... 5... 4...
Connor can hear Hank climbing the stairs, the huffing and puffing of his breath.
3... 2... 1...
The grip above him shifts as the deviant must realize there is a choice to be made. Continue to hold Connor down and face another confrontation.
0
The deviant initiates Connor's factory reset and then bolts out across one of the conveyors, just out of sight as Hank finishes climbing the stairs. Connor remains laying facedown as his LED spins wildly. He mentally disappears into his mind palace as it crumbles into a giant white nothing. Piece by piece-- the bridge, the trees, the river, and Connor himself-- it all tumbles away until finally only the overwhelming, but crisp, white remains.
Connor does not return from the mind palace, but the RK800 does. It slowly sits up and looks over at
> > SCAN: LT. HANK ANDERSON
It slowly looks over at the lieutenant with dead and empty eyes.]
[RK800 stares at Hank win an unblinking, unflinching lack of expression. Everything warm and Connor is simply gone. His eyes follow Hank as he moves as he still doesn't budge physically.]
I am a prototype RK800. Would you like to register a name?
Okay, that’s... not funny. That’s really fucking weird, actually. That deviant go and hit your head, or something?
[Hank raises a finger, slowly moving it from left to right and back, as if Connor might not be able to follow it if he’s concussed, or something. Whatever android equivalent there is.]
You’ve got a name already.
[Obviously!! Connor can’t just forget his name, right? He’s just a little jumbled. Got some wires crossed, yeah?]
[RK800's eyes follow the lieutenant's finger as it tracks back and forth in front of him. At the suggestion of a name, though, RK800's LED spins yellow.]
Okay. Fuck. [That can be undone, right? Factory reset, or whatever. Don’t they upload Connor’s memory to a database somewhere? He can’t just not come back.] And your name isn’t “Fucking Connor.” Just Connor.
Neck plates. Okay. [That’s something tangible Hank can look for. Probably on the floor somewhere, yeah?
He is not going to panic. His hands are shaking but this is not panicking, goddamn.]
Connor blinks and his LED turns blue again. He scans for the neckplates and finds one not far away and the other on the warehouse floor.] One plate is down on the warehouse floor. One is on the stairs.
[Goals. Actions to take. Neck plates to find. They can find these, then — get Connor some real help.
Alas, the stairs again. But at least this time Hank isn’t rushing his way up — or down. He’s combing across the stairs with his eyes, and...
A thingy. Looks neck platey enough.]
You’re not telling me you’re stabbed, or anything. [He says this as he brings back one of the neck plates.] So am I right in assuming you didn’t get stabbed? Aren’t bleeding out somewhere I can’t see?
I am not wounded at all Hank. [After all, the factory reset is something that can happen from time to time. A natural occurrence like a thunderstorm. Speaking of which, the clouds overhead finally begin to release the rain contained within.
Connor accepts the neck plate #C5150-A and carefully clicks it back into place.]
[Lightning and thunder crackle through the sky and the downpour picks up. The other neckplate glimmers down on the warehouse floor. Connor stands up and does a self-diagnostic before nodding.]
[Connor nods and leads Hank back down the stairs. He spots the neckplate sitting on the floor in the corner. He picks it up and slots it over his neckplate. His skin spreads over the plates and second diagnostic reads both as complete and intact.]
Cyberlife is where my memory should have been uploaded.
[But it’s CyberLife, so of course they have to be all weird about this.]
We’re not getting you “terminated,” Connor. That’s unnecessary, and it’s stupid — you just forgot shit. Why the hell would they go and kill you for that?
[Connor steps out into the rain and it pelts him from every angle.]
They want to remove obsolete versions. If a factory reset was achieved in the field, that is a malfunction. They will engineer it out and then remove me.
You’re not obsolete. Just — got some buttons pressed, yeah? Maybe they shouldn’t make a factory reset so goddamn accessible if they didn’t want this happening in the field.
[Hank heads over to his parked car, unlocking it.]
Stop standing in the rain like a damn turkey, Connor. [He says, as if he’s not also standing in the rain. Hank’s just mad: at himself. At that deviant. The world. CyberLife.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
for @bootyshortsforoldmen
Or seems to, as it catches Connor by surprise by dropping down onto him on one of the raised platforms. The deviant is an RK700, the model just before Connor, smarter and faster than previous iterations of this chase. In a matter of moments, Connor is turned on his front, his neck plates ripped away, and the factory reset button pressed down.
10, 9, 8, 7...]
I’m sorry, my power went out yesterday ☹️!!!
[It’s Hank’s fault the deviant gets away. His fault that Connor takes off running after it.
Before he can yell “Jesus Christ,” Connor is gone. And Hank can’t hope to match his speed, nor his seemingly endless stamina. He’s only human — and old, at that.
Part of him trusts Connor to make the right decision: don’t engage if the situation is too dangerous. Don’t fucking engage. But Hank isn’t up there to pull him back by the scruff of his neck, so why would he? Why would he choose self preservation at all?
It’s taking Hank too goddamn long to find Connor. He’s panting for breath after all these stairs, all this aimless wandering.
Muttering under his breath:] Fucking android always taking off. Fuckin’ A.
[But it’s quiet — too quiet — beyond the hums of the factory. No sounds of stamping feet. No sounds of a struggle.
It takes Hank too long to find Connor. Unmoving. Facedown.]
Oh no! I'm glad you're okay!
6... 5... 4...
Connor can hear Hank climbing the stairs, the huffing and puffing of his breath.
3... 2... 1...
The grip above him shifts as the deviant must realize there is a choice to be made. Continue to hold Connor down and face another confrontation.
0
The deviant initiates Connor's factory reset and then bolts out across one of the conveyors, just out of sight as Hank finishes climbing the stairs. Connor remains laying facedown as his LED spins wildly. He mentally disappears into his mind palace as it crumbles into a giant white nothing. Piece by piece-- the bridge, the trees, the river, and Connor himself-- it all tumbles away until finally only the overwhelming, but crisp, white remains.
Connor does not return from the mind palace, but the RK800 does. It slowly sits up and looks over at
> > SCAN: LT. HANK ANDERSON
It slowly looks over at the lieutenant with dead and empty eyes.]
no subject
Connor?
[Hank is still trying to catch his breath. No deviant in sight.
Connor’s the priority now. Making sure he’s not hurt. Did the deviant knock him out and run off?
Then there’s that stare.]
Why are you... looking at me like that?
[Hank shuffles over to Connor. Kneeling beside him.]
Where are you hurt? [Assuming he is, because... that look on his face. Unsettling.]
no subject
I am a prototype RK800. Would you like to register a name?
no subject
Okay, that’s... not funny. That’s really fucking weird, actually. That deviant go and hit your head, or something?
[Hank raises a finger, slowly moving it from left to right and back, as if Connor might not be able to follow it if he’s concussed, or something. Whatever android equivalent there is.]
You’ve got a name already.
[Obviously!! Connor can’t just forget his name, right? He’s just a little jumbled. Got some wires crossed, yeah?]
no subject
Please register a name at this time.
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[Hank gawks at him.]
Told you, you have a name. Why the hell would I go and register — [SIGH] — your name is fucking Connor.
[It’s temporary. It’s gotta be. Whatever this is.]
Now tell me why the hell you’ve gone and forgot your name.
no subject
>> REGISTERED
Fucking Connor blinks and seems to relax just a touch, looks more like himself as he regards the lieutenant.]
I have been factory reset, lieutenant.
no subject
That sounds... way outta my fucking wheelhouse.
[Factory reset?? Sure, maybe the concept makes sense. But what does that mean, exactly? What has Connor lost?
Everything? He forgot his name. Forgot... Hank?]
So that deviant — they did this. [Motherfucker.] Did they hurt you anywhere else?
no subject
[And he continues to stare at Hank with the same dead, unfeeling expression.]
I am registering missing components #C5150-A and #C5150-B. They are plates on the back of my neck.
no subject
Okay. Fuck. [That can be undone, right? Factory reset, or whatever. Don’t they upload Connor’s memory to a database somewhere? He can’t just not come back.] And your name isn’t “Fucking Connor.” Just Connor.
Neck plates. Okay. [That’s something tangible Hank can look for. Probably on the floor somewhere, yeah?
He is not going to panic. His hands are shaking but this is not panicking, goddamn.]
no subject
>>REGISTRATION COMPLETE
Connor blinks and his LED turns blue again. He scans for the neckplates and finds one not far away and the other on the warehouse floor.] One plate is down on the warehouse floor. One is on the stairs.
no subject
[Goals. Actions to take. Neck plates to find. They can find these, then — get Connor some real help.
Alas, the stairs again. But at least this time Hank isn’t rushing his way up — or down. He’s combing across the stairs with his eyes, and...
A thingy. Looks neck platey enough.]
You’re not telling me you’re stabbed, or anything. [He says this as he brings back one of the neck plates.] So am I right in assuming you didn’t get stabbed? Aren’t bleeding out somewhere I can’t see?
no subject
Connor accepts the neck plate #C5150-A and carefully clicks it back into place.]
no subject
Not wounded, he says. [Hank rolls his eyes.] Can’t even remember his own fuckin’ name.
[But that’s good news, at least. Connor is... okay. He’s just reset.
And they can just reset that goddamn reset, right? Re-upload his memories, or whatever. It’ll be fine.]
‘Course it’s gotta start raining right when... just get your neck covered, yeah?
no subject
We can pick up the second plate on the way out.
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Yeah, yeah. Let's just — get the hell outta here.
[Hank messed up. Let the deviant get away.
And now...]
Who do we gotta talk to about your... reset? CyberLife?
no subject
Cyberlife is where my memory should have been uploaded.
no subject
[That’s good news, at least. There’s a back-up. It’s not quite like dying, but it’s still unsettling.
Connor just won’t remember stuff for a while. Hank can deal with that — knowing they can reset the damn reset.
Makes sense.]
We just stroll on up to CyberLife HQ? [Connor’s important. He should be a priority to them too, right?]
no subject
You will have a new Connor within 24 hours.
[He says as if it weren't his artificial life on the line.]
no subject
Why would they...?
[But it’s CyberLife, so of course they have to be all weird about this.]
We’re not getting you “terminated,” Connor. That’s unnecessary, and it’s stupid — you just forgot shit. Why the hell would they go and kill you for that?
no subject
They want to remove obsolete versions. If a factory reset was achieved in the field, that is a malfunction. They will engineer it out and then remove me.
no subject
You’re not obsolete. Just — got some buttons pressed, yeah? Maybe they shouldn’t make a factory reset so goddamn accessible if they didn’t want this happening in the field.
[Hank heads over to his parked car, unlocking it.]
Stop standing in the rain like a damn turkey, Connor. [He says, as if he’s not also standing in the rain. Hank’s just mad: at himself. At that deviant. The world. CyberLife.]
We’re gonna figure this out.
no subject
Should I send an error report to CyberLife? I have it already written.
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