Conflicting orders - Connor X Reader

Finally, a chase!

You, Hank, and Connor all stood in the elevator as it slowly rose up the building, the elevator dinging once it met its destination. You and Hank stepped out, but Connor stayed behind. You hadn't noticed, your head buried into your phone, playing Candy Crush, but Hank did; he called out to him.

"Hey, Connor! You run out of batteries or what?" he said, tilting his head. You kept walking, standing in front of the apartment door, waiting. There was a faint sound coming from inside, but you couldn't quite make out what it was.

"I'm sorry, I was making a report to Cyberlife."

"Uh... Well, do you plan on staying in the elevator?"

"No! I'm coming."

You snickered at Connor's response and the hint of sassiness in it. Hank continued down the hallway, Connor following behind.

"Hey, what do we know about this guy?" You asked aloud, to no one in particular.

"Not much. Just that a neighbor reported that he heard strange noises coming from this floor. Nobody's supposed to be living here, but the neighbor said he saw a man hiding an LED under his cap," Connor responded.

"Oh Christ, if we have to investigate every time someone hears a noise, we're gonna need more cops," Hank rolled his eyes, earning a chuckle from you.

"Hey, were you for real making a report back there in the elevator? Just by closing your eyes?" you asked, not looking up from your phone.

"Correct."

"Shit... Wish I could do that," Hank commented, you nodded in agreement.

Hank leaned on the doorframe, and Connor stood a little off to the side while you, phone in one hand, knocked on the apartment door. Nobody responded, but the sounds inside the room came to a halt. You, Hank, and Connor shared a look; Hank shrugged, signifying you to knock again.

So you did, much harder this time. "Yo, anybody home?"

A faint chirping sound came from inside; Hank furrowed his brows in confusion.

"DPD! Open up!"

There was a loud thump and some scuffling coming from inside.

You, Hank, and Connor, all shared another look. Hank grabbed his gun. "Stay behind me," he ordered calmly.

"Got it," you and Connor said in unison, complying.

You quickly put your phone away, unholstering your firearm at the same time. People can talk all they want about you—calling you childish, saying you never listen, and claiming you don't take anything seriously. But the truth is, you've always been focused, like laser-focused. They didn't have a clue what was going on inside your head. And there's a damn good reason you became a cop so young, A detective so young—'cause you're just naturally gifted.

Your senses go into overdrive at the snap of a finger. You were like a superhero, with everything cranked up to a million. I mean, come on, in the lion vs. zebra game of life, you're definitely the lion.

So why the hell did they keep underestimating you when you've never once screwed up?

Hank got you. He saw through all the bullshit, understood what made you tick. He knew you had your head in the game. He was like your second dad or something.

In one swift kick, Hank knocked open the door, walking in carefully.

You followed behind, covering Hank in case the suspect was violent.

He walked to the end of the hallway, kicking down the door; a kit of pigeons flew out towards him.

"Guh, what the fuck is this?!" he let out in surprise and maybe a little bit of fear.