finalflight | PSL; [It's bigger than us, it's bigger than everything]

[Sorry, Hank, but Connor’s not letting you have this alcohol back. Any more, and he’s of the belief that he’ll find himself passed out again on the kitchen floor.

And there’s the issue of believing what Hank is telling him. That his worry was based on the case, and none of what he says is an exaggeration — they are grasping for leads, because every case thus far hasn’t led them much closer to figuring out just what causes deviancy, and what to do about more and more rogue androids becoming a reality in Detroit.]

Much of what’s happened is unfortunate, yes.

[Connor seems to be taking a moment, deciding whether or not he should just accept that answer and move on. If there’s a ratio of trust versus doubt, a calculation he can run in his mind, to help him decide if Hank is telling the truth about why he’s hit the bottle this evening.

And then, finally, he stands. He offers him a hand up, if he’ll take it.]

But maybe tonight’s case will be more promising in regards to leads.

[Hank scoffs.]

Yeah, maybe.

[And maybe pigs'll fly outta my butt, he almost says, but there's making a lie believable and there's taking it too far, and if the kid's really dug up some hope that he's not going to be thrown in the junkyard over this case, maybe Hank should let him keep it. So instead of saying that he takes Connor's hand and heaves on it, getting his legs all right under him and trying to keep the grip on Connor's hand until he's sure his balance is settled right.]

You know where my keys are, right? If you're that ready to go, maybe you can just fill me in on the way.

[He nods, making sure Hank is steady on his feet. He does know where the keys are.]

Right. If you think you’re in a reasonable state to think clearly and critically when we arrive there.

[Lucidity is important, after all.]

[Hank laughs.]

Just when I start to forget about the stick stuck up your ass-

[Should he say that? Should he not say that? This secrecy shit is complicated, and he is drunk, and when it comes to the issue of talking about Connor like he's a real ~~deviant~~ boy, Hank can't figure out where the boundaries are.]

[Fuck it. He'll know the boundaries when he hits them.]

[He doesn't know why Hank pauses. It's not like the man had been particularly hesitant to sling expletives his way before.

More evidence pointing towards the Lieutenant acting odd, but maybe it's too early to make any solid judgments regarding that just yet. There is the off-chance that Connor is being too scrutinizing, too over-analyzing. It's as Hank said just moments before: he really hasn't known him for that long in the grand scheme of things.

And so, eventually, Connor will find himself in the driver seat of Hank's car. He explains to him the details of the case as he knows it. An android gone deviant after having been brought in for the installation of modifications on the cheap, which usually equates to them being highly illegal or otherwise questionable because of their instability. Connor thinks this case is different enough from the others that they might garner a new perspective they hadn't gleaned before. And if they're lucky (he hopes they are), a lead will finally rear its ugly head and give them something to work with.

He gives the name and address, easily recited. Though it isn't far, and they're already nearly there.]

[Hank opens the door once they get there and leans on his knees, rubbing at the side of his face. Then he stands and holds onto the top of the car until his body realizes where down is. It's not that bad; just bad enough that he probably should take a second, not bad enough that he really needs to. But before he's really done it he catches sight of a face that's weirdly familiar.]

Dave! Hey! Over here!

[Hank waves him over, taking a step forward and wobbling a little.]

Heyyyyy. Fuck. Haven't seen you in... What's it? How long?

[A thin man with graying hair and rolled up sleeves glances at the uniformed officers nearby, then wanders toward them. There are spots of blue across one hand, and on the tips of his fingers.]

Hank? What the hell, man? And with your own android? You finally came around to living in the future and you didn't call me? I coulda got you a...

[He squints at the model number on Connor's jacket and then looks him up and down.]

A RK800? I never seen your model before. RK800, tell me your functions.

Edited (code) 2018-08-02 09:23 (UTC)

[By the time Connor has stepped out of the car and the man named Dave has made his way over, he’s already scanned his face and cross-referenced it against his own internal database. He’s already noted the blue on his fingertips, and the obvious friendliness with Hank.

And he replies without missing a beat.]

My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife to aid the DPD.

[One must always start off with a cursory sort of introduction, apparently. He doesn’t seem to care that Dave didn’t ask for a name specifically.]

I was created to more specifically assist in the investigations regarding potential deviant androids. Functions include: scanning, analyzing, and reconstruction of a crime scene. Sampling of biological and certain non-biological material in real time. Probability prediction of events and outcomes. Vocal mimicry. An advanced social module to help me work more harmoniously with humans — including negotiation, and in some cases, interrogation.

[A pause.]

As well as any other baseline functions found in non-prototype androids.

Huh.

[He turns back toward Hank after one last assessing look.]

A loaner. So, have you changed your mind about all this sci-fi shit? Or are you gonna go back to busting my balls about messing around with creepy dolls for a living?

[Hank is very aware of Connor near him. He might’ve gone all ‘beep boop I am Connor the detective robot (many other functions)’ a second ago but that doesn’t mean he isn’t listening. Like a little kid that way. Just when you think they’re not paying attention and you can let your mouth slip...

Fuck, nevermind. He’s got questions to he’s supposed to be asking. Probably. If he can think of any.]

I’m just doing my job, Dave. So uh, you were there when uh, when that android freaked out?

[Dave nods, glancing back at the cops at the building behind him before he answers in a low voice.]

Yeah, I just turned its tracker off and was about to install some programs when it just... I hadn’t started yet though, I swear. I didn’t do anything to it.

[Hank casts around his slow, dumb brain for whatever the follow up to that should be. Does he press Dave on whether he’s full of shit, or does he go with it and just ask about something that else? If Dave is lying and freaks out and runs, there’s no way Hank’s going to be able to keep up. If he’s not lying and gets ticked about not being believed Hank doesn’t think he remembers enough about the guy to calm him down again, especially not right now. Shit, hadn’t he agreed to come here because he thought Connor would be able to handle all of it? Had he told Connor that?]

Right. So, right, uh...

[Connor is listening, of course, even if he’s transitioned into that very discernible state of his: the ability to stand quietly, detached, not interrupting as the humans talk. But while he listens, there is processing happening in the blinking of his LED. That much he can’t hide; his eagerness to examine the scene where this apparent installation was going to take place, tonal hills and valleys of both of the men, the queueing of important questions that one should always ask while on a case like this.

The queue of important questions that one should always ask while on a case like this, Hank.

It’s not protocol that he’s delegated to the backseat of any investigation they undertake, though it had always a truth in his mind that he was here to assist Hank, rather than guide him about from clue to clue. The Lieutenant had plenty experience doing this long before Connor even existed, so there was no need. But the man is petering out, he can hear it. All the drinking didn’t do him any favors, and already something is bothering Connor about what he hears.

And so he steps forward, speaking up, eyes purposefully not casting down to the Thirium on Dave’s hands (yet).]

Can you tell us what model of android it was, and what you were planning to install?

Uh, ST300. I kept telling the guy he should just buy another kind of android, but he was really set on that one. I guess eloping with your dad's receptionist is more exciting than just buying one of those companion models. Kids, huh?

[He says that last to Hank, who sort of smiles a little in response.]

It was just a behavioral mod, though. Tricky job, he didn't want me to just swap in code from a WR400 or something, he wanted it to be "all her". Once he got 'her' into whatever idyllic little countryside he was planning on running away to, away from Cyberlife and dad and everybody, that tune woulda changed real fast. But hey, guy had the money.

[Hank frowns. His voice is more alert, now, his gaze is sharper.]

You can do that? I mean, I knew you can't track em when they go deviant, but you can turn it off before that? Hide em from Cyberlife and everybody?

[Dave raises his eyebrows, not expecting the question.]

Oh yeah. I said I turned the thing off the ST300 already, didn't I? But yeah, it's easy. That's why it's the first thing I did.

[The set of Connor's brow furrows, listening. The change of Hank's tone is noted, but he sees it as a favorable thing -- focus, maybe, returning to the Lieutenant now that they were unravelling the story properly.

So, if they're to take this at face value, the tale is straightforward enough. An ST300 gone deviant, before the installation of certain behavioral mods could be applied. Tracker already gone, though it was a moot point now.

(There's something ironic, he thinks, about his client wanting it to be "all her" and yet willing to install something that tweaks and twists and changes core personality. Connor doesn't remark on it.)

Still, he's not done with his questions.]

What kind of behavioral modifications?

Love. [Dave gives Connor a crooked, amused grin.] I figured aping some seduction protocols from some other models would be close enough, but the guy kept talking about it like it was the real thing so I just let him think whatever he wanted. Hey, maybe that's what made it lose its mind, huh? The first touch of a real emotion make you guys's heads explode?

[Love? It’s visible, the face Connor makes at that — frown twisting askew, deep lines knitted in his brow. The impossibility of it is what surprises him, that a mod would even exist to emulate such a powerful human emotion in an android… Well. It wouldn’t work, is his first thought. Androids do not feel love, they do not feel emotion, and everything stubborn and disbelieving rises up and spills over in his tone.

Even though he does not remark on that, exactly.]

I thought you said you hadn’t installed anything yet. Did you or didn't you?

[Dave's mouth opens. His eyes widen. He visibly struggles for words for a second, then turns to Hank.]

I didn't, I already said I didn't! Is its memory busted or what?

[Hank may not be at his best, but he remembers how to play good cop/bad cop.] Hell, far as I'm concerned only about one word out of five that comes out of that thing's mouth makes sense. [And maybe, if Connor leans on the guy enough to really make him worried, Hank will have enough leverage over good old Dave to ask for... other things. Things Connor can't be around for. He'll cross that bridge when he comes to it.] Maybe you'd better indulge it, though. It gets all weird when it thinks it's onto somethin.

[This convinces Dave to turn back to Connor. It does not lessen his indignation.] It was a joke. I know you guys don't know a lot about them either, J-O-K-E-S? 'What's the difference between a blonde and an ironing board,' you know, that whole thing?

[It’s funny how easily Connor can manage the look of being unimpressed simply by not responding to the derailment of “jokes”. Because that’s all it is, and it’s information that’s discarded immediately in his mind. Dave might as well have said nothing at all.

And Hank... well. Connor knows the difference between sincere insult and the usual tactics of questioning, of putting on pressure even outside of the interrogation room. So he continues as if those words were nothing as well.]

You said it yourself, “the first touch of real emotion”. Implying that you did — or at least attempted to — install a modification that would simulate something like affection.

[He gives him no chance to reply, to interrupt. He gestures at Dave’s hands.]

Your hands are stained with Thirium. Was there a struggle? Did she fight against you?

[Dave looks to Hank again.]

[Hank shrugs.] Thirium runs through very specific parts of an android's body, Dave. And this guy, your customer, I bet he couldn't handle those mods if they made it look like you were hurting his baby. So where'd you get those stains on your hands, man?

[Dave spreads out his hands, looks down at them like he's seeing them for the first time and is outraged at what he sees. He looks up to Connor, his mouth open and ready for something defensive and angry to spill out of it. Then his shoulders slump, and he looks back at Hank.]

They'll have my ass, you know that. Trackers are one thing, but modifying their code? Their intellectual property? Cyberlife'll sue the shirt off my back. You know all the forms I had to sign when they fired me? Their lawyers will destroy me. I'll lose my business, I'll lose everything.

[Body language parsed and analyzed, the spike of frustration and then something shaped like resignation. Connor deigns it a good time to cut in once more.]

Normally, you’d be right. A company like Cyberlife wouldn’t hesitate to throw the book at an ex-employee breaking the terms of a contract. They’ve done it plenty of times before.

[He lets that settle for a moment.]

But this is a unique case. The deviant issue is becoming all too prevalent, and if your experiences with this android can offer even the smallest amount of insight regarding what causes this phenomenon, I’m certain they would be willing to be more... lenient.

However, that’ll only happen if you tell us the truth.

[Hank can see the hope in Dave's eyes as Connor talks. He can see the guy fighting with himself, debating, but that hope- It's true, that you can practically taste the moment an interview's cracked. You can feel it in the air. Hank's not sure about a lot of things about Connor, but the guy is definitely, definitely good at his job.]

[Dave shakes his head, looks at Hank, and lets out a quiet sigh. Then he looks back at Connor.]

My code was good. I know it was. So it couldn't have been me, it couldn't. But it just fought the install- freaked the hell out, started, uh- It broke a lot of my equipment. So I was just trying to keep it from breaking anything else, right? I paid good money for those tools. And the guy, he jumped in. Fuckin moron. The EMTs wouldn't tell me how he was, but if he pulls through you bet your ass he won't be writing poetry for some cute piece of plastic tail anymore. Once you seen one go haywire it kinda ruins the illusion, you know?

If, uh... If it'll help keep my name out of all this I might be able to dig up the program I wrote up. You know. If I can remember where I saved it.

[He listens intently, imagining the scenario in his mind. Connor wonders if it was the code itself, causing something to trigger, or if the android was already inclined to become a deviant, something else already nestled in its mind. Like a ticking time bomb, just waiting for the opportunity to go off.

Was having its programming jumbled up and rewritten a stressor? Connor tries to imagine how he might react if he were in a similar— No. Never mind.

He sets his jaw, casts a cursory look at Hank. Then continues, looking back at Dave.]

You’ll remain anonymous. But we would like to look at this program, and take a look at where all this transpired.

[Dave does still resist a moment, but seems to realize there's no point to it. He makes a face, shrugs, and nods over toward the building the uniformed officers have been guarding.]

In my office. Over here.

[Hank starts walking with him, his eyes darting over to Connor and then back again. It should be safe to ask this, just make sure, even while Connor's here to listen. It sounds like it connects to the case.]

You're sure it only started once you started installing that program? It wasn't turning off that tracking thing?

[Dave gives a quick nod.]

Yeah, I'm sure. Done that about a dozen times, never had a problem.

Cool, good. That's good. [Hank sucks at his teeth, thinking about that a second.] Hey, Connor. How about I copy this program for you, while you go ask around and find out if Dave's customer is gonna be healthy enough for an interview? We could get lucky, he might be able to give one now.

[Connor’s eyes are already directed firmly at the building, looking like an android ready to investigate a crime scene — because he is. So when Hank suggests that he does otherwise, there’s a hitch in his step, and hesitation flashes over his features.

But then he nods, the logical part of him dictating that it would be good to get the client’s point of view if they’re able, and that Hank can cover the scene of the incident until he returns.]

...All right, Lieutenant.

[And with that, Connor will turn and head towards some of the other officers nearby, to question them accordingly. Hopefully they don’t terribly mind a somewhat persistent RK800 unit coming up to them out of the blue.]

[When Connor comes back up toward them he might see Hank through the shop's front window, aggressive, leaning forward into Dave's space and poking his chest. Dave scowls, clenches his fists, then leans back, putting his hands on Hank's shoulders to keep Hank still while he steps back from him. Dave nods, the movement brief and irritated, and scribbles something on the one pad of post-it notes in the office, with the one actual ink pen in probably the whole block, given how widely used they aren't. Hank shoves the post-it note in his pocket and turns, seeing Connor and freezing for a second. Then his surprise changes to a quick smile and he steps away from Dave, opening the office's front door.]

Connor. Hey. What did you find out?

[It’s a sight impossible to miss, the body language seen clearly through the shop window. At first, it has Connor worried, leaving him wondering if there was going to be an altercation, but things take an interesting turn when Dave writes something down and hands it to the Lieutenant. That sparks curiosity in Connor’s mind, and when he’s let in, his look is obviously scrutinizing Dave and Hank both.]

...Apparently, he’s still in critical condition. It’ll be a while before we’re permitted to see him, though it’s still something we should consider when we’re able.

[Eyes flick to Dave, then to Hank again. The smile the man wears is... odd.]

What did you learn?

Ah. [Hank shrugs and holds up a usb drive. A little old fashioned, but useful.] Got the program. Obviously I can't make heads or tails of it.

[He turns back toward Dave and his smile goes tight, his voice goes all pointed.]

So we're going to come back if we find anything. And if Dave thinks of anything else, he's gonna call us. Right?

[Dave sighs, then takes a moment to study Connor, looking him up and down. Then he leans on his desk and waves them away.]

Yeah. Yeah, you got it, Hank. Now if you don't mind, I got a lot of cleaning up to do. So- [With a tight smile of his own Dave tilts his head toward the door.]

[For maybe the first time tonight, what Hank wants and what his old friend wants line up. He moves to leave, holding the usb drive out toward Connor.]

So. Where to now? The station to read this, or are you finally going to let me get some fuckin sleep?

[He gives Dave one more scrutinizing look before allowing himself to be ushered out, vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get the opportunity to look around; not that it would matter, if it’s all just knocked over equipment from an unexpected struggle. But his curiosity seems to be redirected easily enough to the USB, and Connor takes it from Hank. He turns it over in his fingers. Old technology. He’ll have to look for an adapter, or some kind of reader, for it back at the station.]

If you’re tired, I can drive you back home and return to the station afterwards. I want to see what’s on this.

[He slips it into his pocket for now, lips thinning. As they walk, a bit of his stiffness has dissipated, the slow draining away of his “detective robot RK800” demeanor into something more familiar with Hank.]

What were you and Dave speaking about while I was gone?

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if connor would do something other than walk back to see hank let me know and i can edit

You’re good!

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