ANGELEYES, dbh connor

THIRTY-ONE

HARD TIMES
━━━━━━(●'ω｀●)━

"WE HAVE NO CHOICE," your words cut through the tense atmosphere of the sectioned-off office, quiet and resigned. You stare down at your hands, admiring the constructed lines of each finger-joint and the small lines in your cuticles.

Anything to distract yourself.

Connor rubs his face with his hand from where he's sitting on the spare desk, "We could have solved this... We just needed more time. We could have!"

You nod, "I know. The FBI should have minded their own business."

A long moment of silence passes between the three of you. Connor stares down at his polished shoes, his hair seeming messier than ever from his constant anxious ruffling. Hank, on the other hand, is partially zoned out. But his eyes are sad.

"So, you're going back to Cyberlife?" Hank asks, breaking his silence.

You blink. "Yes. I'll be deactivated and analyzed to see why I failed my mission."

"No... Deactivated?" Connor's breaths heave as he tries to compose himself. When you look over at him, you see that his brown eyes are glossy with unsaid emotion. It's funny how neither of you wants you to leave and return to Cyberlife but you both don't have any choice.

Your thirium regulator aches. Is this how it feels for humans to have their hearts broken? Is your social integration program affecting your physical coding?

"What if we're on the wrong side? What if we're fighting against people who just wanna be free? Come on, I've seen the way you look at the world, Y/N. Those aren't the eyes of a machine waiting to be disposed of. You..." Hank huffs a frustrated sigh. "Fuck. I don't know."

Connor nods, "This doesn't feel right. Those girls in the Eden club... They just wanted to be free to love each other. I-.. I understand."

You frown. Your programming speaks before you can fully understand the words you're saying. "They don't want to be free. They're defective machines that have to be destroyed. If we don't neutralize them, they'll be a danger to us all."

"Maybe we're wrong..." Hank rubs his face. "Maybe we're wrong! Maybe these deviants have actually developed...a certain kind of consciousness. We'd be destroying...a new life form!"

He sounds delusional. You frown at him and glance away, continuing to lean on the same desk as Connor. You don't exactly know what to think, each part of your coding is overriding each other and turning into a jumbled mess.

All you know is that you need to solve the case and you're about to be stopped.

"When you refused to kill that android at Kamski's place..." Hank's voice trails off quietly. "You put yourself in her shoes."

Connor nods slowly, "Right. You showed empathy, Y/N."

"...And empathy is a human emotion," Hank's voice is rough with emotion that you can't decipher. It sounds like disappointment but deeper, more earnest than that.

Wait. Empathy? You freeze, avoiding your partner's strong stares.

"You're wrong," you say simply. "My actions were determined by a string of statistical evidence indicating that Kamski had no information to tell. Our outcome would've remained the same whether or not I had killed the Chloe model."

Hank stares at you with an irritated expression, like he's daring you to say that again. "Whatever you say, Y/N..."

Well... This might be the last day you ever talk to Hank and Connor before you're taken by Cyberlife and deactivated. You think for a long moment, trying to decide what parting words you could leave them with.