Just a Machine

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November 8th, 2038
PM 07:15:02

Guns brought out the best in you – on the range, in the field, or in the elevator of your apartment building.  The way your blood vessels constricted from the venomous bite of adrenaline.  How your pulse put mettle under tension, spreading excited delirium into every hairline fracture of your mortal tolerance.  The collapsing peripherals that drew out your target in focused firing of a sympathetic nervous system.

The clarity of thought, each appellation brought forward by the preying soothsayer; the voice of your predatory mind...and one word rang clear in the infernal shouts:

Survive.

"Clever girl, hiding in the one place we wouldn't look."

That was his voice – an unwelcomed torrent of deep tones and shallow threats.  Who he was and what he meant to you; swept away in a flash flood of pandemonium.

"Detroit, the city you were supposed to flee.  In the same building that the US government ordered you to vacate." He chuckled, "And the career choice?  My, that was a nice touch...It made it very difficult to get close to you."

The barrel pushed against the bruise where you'd once lost track of time.  Where you'd adjusted the hands on the clock, winding them back even if their only purpose was to tick forward in an endless cycle. To fire more bullets while running the gauntlet of Life.

And even if Life had been tested and proven, no matter how narrow your pupils had dilated; or how paled your skin...Time was a manmade concept that merely simplified what mankind didn't understand.

Couldn't understand.

But you understood what it meant to be a handmade handgun with its white flag painted black.

And it was time...to fire back.

"What took you so long?"

A ripple ran through him, cataracts of unsureness pooling in his eyes.  He blinked them away, lips curling back over baring jaws.

"Pestilent as ever..."  His fist bunched your shirt, tossing you like a weightless doll, "I should've expected so much."

Your shoulder bounced off the wall to the right, and you caught yourself on a railing.

"Quite the beautiful tragedy, hm?  Like those tales, crafted of lies and anarchy in one of your books." He eyed the gun, gaze trailing the glimmering steel, "Elijah once told me your ambition was a 'flower that would never wither...'"

You raised your head, looking over your shoulder as you carefully twisted towards him.  Your thoughts fell through an opened fault as clashing plates hammered away at a conclusion.

"But even the healthiest rose cannot be so without the destruction of diseased material."

He aimed, his height forcing his chin to lower.  His loose strands of hair swayed to the side, forehead creasing under a carefree, emotionless mask.

"And you, darling, are a black spot on a budding future."

"Who are you?" Your palms flattened against the cold surface.

"Connor, the android sent by CyberLife." His lips twitched in a snarl as he clicked the hammer, "And you are my mission."

"You're not Connor." You tried to regain the strength in your voice, but failed.

"I am what Connor should have been.  Focused.  Dedicated.  An obedient machine that was ordered to utilize you for the benefit of this investigation."

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