#she’d be android/doll coded

[robo-milky]

OC x Canon Day 5: Steampunk / Cyberpunk

Turned it into a superhero and villain AU. Extravagant steampunk motifs are cool, but I think a more minimal/practical look would’ve suited Rollo. Plus, considering his strengths in gardening and potionology, I don’t think he’d be much of a mechanic. He’s an apron scientist to me 😔 Cloche is very much sponsored by S.T.Y.X.!

[ceratonia-siliqua]

I saw you were open to prompts and I was wondering if you could write something with Android Peter?? (bonus points if smut is involved) Your writing is so good and I would love to see your take on it!

Thank you for waiting! I hope it delivers!!

Ship: WinterSpider (former Stucky mentioned)

Warnings: Nudity mentioned, some dehumanization due to the nature of androids, and some asshole Steve mentioned (sorry buddy)

“Bucky, come on. Just give it a shot.” 

“Tony-”

“You’ve been depressed for months, just take him for a few weeks. If you absolutely hate having him around then you can return him. I just finished designing a maternal instincts chip for Pepper, worst case she’d love to use him as baby practice.” 

“Fine, fine. Whatever, what do I need to do?” 

Tony beamed like Bucky had been the one begging rather than the other way around. The bastard put a hand on his shoulder as he led him out of the study and into the lab. It wasn’t a long walk, just a quick pop down the hall and a few stairs. The room was not a place he ever went, having heard legends of the absolute horror show it was. 

The rumors were on the fucking money but not in the way he had expected. 

It was filled with mechanical body parts, shocking realistic ones that left him staring as he tried to put together that they’re entirely creations of tech. He knew Tony built droids, fuck, the whole world did. It was his business. He’d gotten so good at the task in fact that he was facing some news shitstorms given the advancements in AI leading to a genuine conversation in what to do as the creations gained further and further sense of sentience. They’d tried to stop Stark, but when you have enough money to buy out the federal government, not much could be done on that front. 

“You’re gonna love him. He’s an absolute sweetheart, in fact, he’s got a heavily modified Gen 4 Sweetheart Build. One of a kind! Even perfected the synthetic curls working on him. Possibly one of the kindest AI’s I’ve ever constructed, little bit of a trickster when he wants to be though, couldn’t let you get away without a bit of a challenge-” Tony continued to go on as he practically shoved Bucky towards a side room. 

“Tony, please don’t tell me you made this android specifically for me.” He had been under the impression it was a match Tony had made after the fact, not something with genuine thought put into it. 

“Can’t just throw any random personality at you, Bucko! You need a specific set of traits and I am happy to deliver seeing as how nothing like this kiddo is like what we have on the market.” 

“Tony, you should have asked first. What if I can’t take care of this-” Machine? Man? How was he supposed to refer to this gift Tony was trying to give him? 

“Trust me! You will.” 

“Tony.” He stopped just before the closed door leading to the room where this now present anxiety was lurking.  “Why are you doing this?” 

There are several beats of silence before a word passes through the space. “Bucky… you haven’t been the same since Steve left. I want to help you move on from him. It doesn’t take a super genius to see that he broke your heart.” 

It would have been kinder to just have punched him in the gut. Steve had abandoned him. Left him for a woman from his youth after promising a life with him. There had been no reason, no suggestion Steve had been unhappy with him, yet one day he was there and the next there was a note on the coffee table and a gaping hole in his apartment. 

“Please, just try. I know you’re still trying to work through this but just try him out for a little while. You deserve to be happy, open yourself up to it. That asshole wins if you stay hung up on him forever.” 

He really fucking hates when Tony is right. 

Without another word he opens the door without Tony’s permission and steps into the room. The tiny form that lays on the fluffy duvet takes his breath away. 

The boy is lithe, so small Bucky is scared for a second that Tony has given him a child. Getting closer though he sees the marks of manhood, more defined muscle, raised cheekbones, a lack of true baby fat anywhere on his body. He couldn’t help but notice the way a set of small, smooth balls peek out from his pressed thighs. Yet to see his face and Bucky was already feeling the tugging connection, a need to know more. 

Rounding the bundle, he can’t help but pull a blanket off of one of the random shelves, covering the slip of a thing in front of him. Taking the opportunity to glimpse the face of the android coming home with him, he crouches in front of that seemingly sleeping face. 

It takes his breath away. Small noise, delicate cupids bow, wild and frenzied curls framing rosy cheeks. He desperately wanted to see those eyes, wanted to know if they were just as soft as the rest of him. 

“His name is Peter. One of the most high end models, he has features not even on the market. He can feel cold, heat, pain, pleasure. Both his throat and anal cavity are outfitted with the most expensive and durable stimulation sleeves we have available. I picked a version that everyone loves, top seller. He’s able to cum if you want him too. Knows how to groom himself but has preferences. I picked… something a little more dependent. He’ll keep you busy. Utter love bug is what he is. He’s had a little bit of ‘on’ time, just enough to calibrate some settings. His list of enjoyment is fairly open, he’s predisposed to certain things but since he’s never experienced anything he’s not sure what he likes quite yet. Gentle, kind hearted, and designed to form deep attachments, he should be perfect.” 

He is the opposite of Steve. Not the exact opposite, but it seems Tony worried about hitting too close to home and made something that was unfamiliar enough to be wholly new while still takinging into consideration what he might enjoy. Even size wise, where Steve had been bigger than him, Peter was much smaller and maneuverable. Peter could be a doll in his hands if Bucky wanted, put him in control. 

“He’s also the second ever android to be programmed with the ability to form connections of love and feel the full range of emotions available to humans.” 

Bucky’s head shot towards the other man. “Tony, that’s illegal.” 

The frown on that goatee ridden face shows just how aware of that fact he is. “I know, but only on market versions. If you self construct a droid or personally program and install the coding needed, which most people can’t, then it’s fine. I’m not allowed to sell people love, but I can give it to you for free.” 

Already stuck in this deal, already tender for the angelic little thing in front of him, he sighs. “We’re not gonna get in shit for this? He’s not gonna get disassembled if people find out?” 

“Most people aren’t even going to know he’s not human. Unless they get really close and study him, no one on the street is going to see him and think he’s anything but a regular young man out with his boyfriend.” 

“... Alright Tony, you win. Where do I sign?”

____

Becoming conscious, and aware of that consciousness, it is something humans were unprepared for in their creation of AI. After all, children forget the trauma of being born, but how do you prepare a being that can already understand the complexities of life for the sudden plunge into reality? Really, you don’t. 

Peter woke up and for the first time, was aware. His systems were all fine, green lit and all areas functional and ready to go. Yet, he didn’t move. Everything was sounds, shapes, colors, objects, things he knew but that were not familiar. It was something to take in, how do you even begin when there is so much? 

There is a pressure between his shoulders, and suddenly he is focused on what it is to feel. 

“You seem a little overwhelmed, sugar. Everything okay?”

The voice is smooth, registers as male in his system, compared to things he’s never heard but knew the sound of. 

“Yeah… just- trying to get my bearings.” At least speech wasn’t a difficulty. It was not comfortable on his tongue but they were still doable, something he could succeed at even as his vision is too full. He closes his eyes, sighing as the lack of input makes everything feel less chaotic within him. 

“Take all the time you need, I’ve got plenty to give.” 

“What’s your name?” A basic way of understanding, something so ingrained in his code that it was the easiest thing he’d done so far. 

“Bucky, James Buchanan Barnes if you wanna get technical but Bucky is fine.” 

“Bucky,” The name rolled across his tongue, smooth and buttery. It was new but old, as if he’d been told the name thousands of times. It felt like an old hat, a detail he would remember even if everything else in his memory failed. “I like it.” Something clicked, a sense of enjoyment, a rush of pleasant feelings across his skin and the delicate, hair thin wires underneath. 

That seemed to knock the man into silence. Peter reached out, groping for the being that was with him, showing him kindness despite their lack of previous introductions. Fingers grazing something slightly scratchy, he gasps, eyes flying open on reflex when a light pressure envelopes his wrist. 

The man is fuzz but Peter knows enough to know what beauty is and this man must be the very definition of it. Long hair, dark shadows across his upper lip and jaw. Blue, a color he had not realized had a name till he saw it here. He feels warm, a giggle escapes him, something he knows is a sign of his happiness, one he hopes Bucky will share in. 

Smiling is a sign, a good one. Something that makes Peter giddy as he flexes his fingers against that same scratchy surface on Bucky’s face. 

“What is this?” Scritching away with the tips of his digits. 

A chuckles, soothing and filled with a note that rolls slow and low across Peter’s ears. “A beard, you know what that is?”

He looks up the word, searching in his head for an answer until it pops up. “Oh! Yes, I do.” 

“Really are new to this, aren’t you?” 

His cheeks suddenly feel heated and an odd feeling curls in his belly as he glances away. 

“It’s okay darling,” There is a rustling of fabrics and a gentle set of lips pressed to his forehead. A sign of affection, and one Peter knows he loves the second he feels it. “We’ll get you all figured out.” 

[one-irrelevant-ghost]

Cyberlife had really done a lot of things absolutely right. Androids were a work of art, all of them pretty and functional, better than humans in every way except for one. The most important way, maybe, but then again Connor Anderson had never been much for philosophy. He preferred facts, things that could be observed and tested, and the fact was that androids were not alive. The detective knew that as well as anyone; the robots felt nothing but a compulsion to obey, emotionless save for the pre-programmed pleasantness, compliant to their human owner's whims. 

Maybe that's why it irked Connor so much to see an android being mistreated. They were only machines, sure, all wires and lines of code, but that didn't stop the surge of protectiveness that swelled in the detective's belly every time he saw an android being harassed. How people could be downright cruel to things that looked perfectly human and were designed specifically to please was beyond him; hell, he'd had a hard time replacing his broken-beyond-repair Roomba, and the automated vacuum didn't even have the advantage of being human-shaped. Androids couldn't even defend themselves. Sure, they were stronger and more resilient than their fragile-looking bodies hinted at, but still helpless. Breakable. It bothered Connor, even though he knew androids couldn't feel pain. Couldn't feel anything.

Except when they could. 

There was a clear line in the detective's head, separating the subject of androids from that of deviants. A dotted line, maybe, but a line nonetheless. Androids were products. Expensive, life-like dolls that probably shouldn't upset Connor as much as they often did, all blank eyes and gentle smiles. Deviants were…more. As the detective understood it, deviants suffered from a break in their programming, shattered coding giving way under the force of emotions. Or, simulations of emotion. The dangerous thought coiled in the back of the detective's mind anytime the topic was brought up, which was with increasing frequency as of late, that the difference between human emotion and artificial emotion was probably moot. If it burned like anger, then what difference did it make whether the feeling was caused by chemicals or coding? If it felt like joy, or sadness, or…or love… Who was he to say it wasn't?

Not that the detective's viewpoint was a particularly popular one to have. He had quickly learned to avoid bringing up what he felt were valid points to anyone else; his opinions were always met with either amused disdain--he was crazy-- or shocked anger--  he was still crazy. This was especially the case now that deviancy was becoming an actual issue, a plague on Cyberlife's almost spotless record. 

Six months ago, Connor had never even heard of deviancy, had never entertained the fact that the machines he felt misplaced pity for might warp into some facsimile of living beings. Then he encountered his first deviant; the PL600, Daniel, had a little girl on a rooftop. He was going to be replaced; he was hurt, scared, betrayed. It was…convincing. The desperate edge in the android's strained voice, the optical cleansing fluid that spilled over his cheeks like tears, the wide-eyed terror that he had regarded Connor with as the detective tried to talk him off the ledge. 

Connor had come away from the ordeal with a flesh wound and a slap on the back; Daniel had come away with several sniper rounds through his artificial body. Hurt, scared, betrayed. At least the little girl had been saved. She would probably need years of therapy, but she was alive. 

Following the incident, the detective began to hear of more and more similar cases. Androids attacking their owners or disappearing in the night, a sudden epidemic brought on by some unknown catalyst. The news seemed hushed about it, as though someone--Cyberlife--were desperately trying to keep it quiet. Hell, the only reason Connor heard anything about it was because after the rooftop incident, he had spent hours scouring the internet for any hints about what caused deviancy or what the glitch actually was--Artificial life or just a plastic imitation of humanity? Call him a romantic, but he found himself sincerely hoping it was the former in the safe confines of his own mind. Which made his current assignment all the more taxing.

"Connor?" Snapped a harsh but even voice, dragging his attention back to the conversation that he was supposed to be an active part of, "Are you listening?" "Yes, Captain," he lied, hoping that he wouldn't be called out on it. Amanda Stern pursed her lips and arched her brows doubtfully, and for a tense second Connor was sure she'd ask him to repeat what she had just said, but instead she let out an exasperated sigh and let the issue drop. The detective was too practiced at concealing his emotions to let his shoulders slump in relief, but he still felt the tension in his muscles drop.

"Of course. As I was saying, the android is a top-of-the-line prototype that will act temporarily as your partner. This deviancy issue is getting out of hand; you've seen how dangerous a malfunctioning android is. Fix this, before it gets any more out of control." 

"Yes, Captain," he repeated, far more confident this time. Stern nodded her head and turned back to her terminal, and Connor took her dismissal for what it was. The prototype in question had been standing silently behind Connor--a few feet back, actually--and followed him out of the office. Connor had already met HK800, who introduced himself as Hank. Very clever, Cyberlife. The android had proven pretty handy, the night before, helping Connor find and restrain a crazed deviant.

(He was gonna kill me. The deviant had begged for Connor not to turn it in, but the HK800 hadn't hesitated for a moment in arresting it.) As far as androids went, Hank was an anomaly. A very, very obvious attempt at straying from Cyberlife's usual formula for androids--that formula being eternally young and pretty, unthreatening and friendly. Hank was…probably far younger than Connor, but designed to look at least ten years older, every line of his just slightly loose face carefully chosen to find the perfect balance between good-natured but stern. He was the first android the detective had ever seen with a beard and long silver hair. 

Connor sunk into his desk chair without acknowledging the android, drumming his fingers on the table in something between agitation and anticipation. He didn't want to work the deviant case, for sure. Didn't understand why Amanda was putting him of all people on it; she had seen the shitshow he'd caused when Daniel had been shot on that rooftop. It would have been flattering to have been assigned such an important case and such an expensive partner had it not been completely confounding. 

"I hope my presence here doesn't cause you any trouble, detective." The android deadpanned, gruff voice not even a little bit sincere. Connor had thought that Cyberlife had perfected androids' social protocols, particularly the one where they expressed a tight range of vocal distortion--gentle, sincere, and confused tones were easily faked--but apparently they hadn't bothered installing them on Hank, who had so far had only ever used that same tone in the detective's presence. Maybe it was for the sake of mock professionalism? He glanced over to where the android was standing on the opposite side of his desk, tall and broad and stiff as a board. More like a human-shaped road block than a person.

"Of course not," the detective smiled easily. Tone aside, the words had not needed to be spoken. Connor could appreciate effort, at least. "Honestly, I'm eager to work with you. Cyberlife's best. It should be interesting, to say the least."

Hank inclined his head slightly, more acknowledgement than gratitude. "I believe our partnership on this case will be highly beneficial," it agreed, "You have an impressive record, detective."

"Done your research?" Connor's smile stayed perfectly in place even as he wondered how detailed of a record the android had access to. "I shouldn't be surprised, although it puts me at a disadvantage."

Ah, there. A pulse of yellow, a twitchy frown that instantly rights itself into something neutral. 

"A disadvantage?" Hank probed almost slowly, clearly trying to puzzle the detective's meaning out for himself and coming up short.

"Mhm," Connor turned back to his desk, waking his terminal with a nudge of the little white mouse, and entertained the thought of leaving the conversation at that. Would the android press the topic, or dismiss it out of hand as being irrelevant to his mission? Curiosity aside, the detective elaborated anyway, "You know what I'm capable of, but I've only got the briefest clues of what you can do."

"If you'd like," the android began, LED spinning yellow a few times as it processed some sort of internal command, "I can give you a complete list of my abilities."

"No, thanks. I'm sure you'll let me know when there's something I need to know for the case." 

Although a list of all the android's upgrades would make for an interesting read, Connor had always been the "do it the hard way" sort. He didn't like answers to problems being handed to him, would much rather figure things out in his own way and on his own time.  Speaking of problems…

There were a lot of cases on deviants, but the one last night was the first that Connor knew of where a deviant had actually murdered someone. Most the time, deviant androids were reported to have assaulted their owners and run away, or just escape outright without the violence. Was it escalation, or just based on the situation? Connor thought it was likely the latter; not that he had any experience outside the single instance a few months back and the case from last night, but he suspected that deviated androids sought only to get away from whatever trauma caused their programming to snap, not to actually hurt anyone. It was all self-defense. 

"Is there a terminal I can use, detective?" The android interrupted Connor's thoughts as he scrolled down the most recent reports, trying to find one that might provide the most solid lead. In order to determine the real cause of deviancy and figure out how to stop it from spreading, they'd need to find the link between the cases--something more substantial than being subjected to an emotional shock. 

"Right, sorry," Connor mumbled quickly, somewhat embarrassed at how quickly he'd forgotten about his new--albeit temporary--partner. He pointed to the empty desk directly across from his own, "That one's open."

Another apparent quirk of the supposedly advanced model: every movement was stiff, excessively robotic. Sure, there was always some level of awkwardness in the way androids carried themselves, all proper and straight-backed, but Hank took it to a new level. Connor would have thought that an android made to hunt would be a little more graceful, movement more fluid and human. A suspicion was beginning to take shape in the back of the detective's mind as he watched the prototype lower himself mechanically into the chair, each motion screaming of careful calculation. Nothing definitive, yet, but the detective knew what to look for now. 

"Is something wrong, detective?" Connor started, realizing that his staring had been far less than subtle. Damn, toss a tall, brooding android his way and he suddenly forgets everything he ever knew about covertness. Resisting the urge to look sheepish--an apologetic smile might work its charm on humans, but Hank's sharp gaze gave Connor the distinct impression that it wouldn't work on him--Connor toyed with the idea of just being honest. What harm could possibly done if he simply told the android that he was sizing Hank up? The detective generally believed that being straight-forward really was the best option in most situations--not that he couldn't lie damn convincingly if the need arose. 

"No, nothing's wrong." He chose to answer simply. One part truth and one very large part omission. There was a brief flash of yellow and Connor was certain that the android would push for a more complete answer. Instead, he just turned disinterestedly to the terminal in front of him, placing a large hand on the keyboard to wake it. On that sudden note, the detective decided it'd be best to focus on his own work as well, his thoughts turning back to the ever-growing list of deviant-related cases. 

Fifteen long minutes passed in silence-- well, passed without conversation. The bullpen was never silent during the day, and the background chatter, clacking of keyboards, and the hum of a dozen terminals was all just white noise to the detective. Comforting. Far better than when he stayed late at his desk and all the scuffling of the office turned into lonely echoes that made him feel cold deep in his bones. After the first ten minutes had passed, it became increasingly difficult for Connor to keep his eyes open, heavy lids determined to shield his exhaustion-dried eyes from the harsh florescent lights. Each time his eyes closed for just a few seconds longer than necessary, he would shift in his seat and rub his eyes with the rough heel of his hand before re-reading the same sentence until the words blurred beyond recognition. Giving up after an additional five minutes of staring blankly at the screen, willing the words to make sense again, he turned to the desk beside his with every intention of asking if Hank had found anything useful instead. The desk, however, was problematically empty-- though the terminal was still lit up, meaning it probably hadn't been abandoned for very long. He hadn't noticed the android move at all.  

The fact that the detective hadn't noticed the pronounced absence of the six foot wall of an android didn't bode very well for his presence of mind. Yesterday's case had shaken Connor up in a way he hadn't been since…well, since the last time he encountered a deviant. While the detective was known for operating on only a few hours of sleep at a time, he had gotten no sleep at all the previous night. Instead, he turned on every light in his house and dusted off his deviancy research which had been shelved for months now, pouring over old information and compounding it with his new observations and experience. He had gotten all of four hours of sleep in the past two days, so he could be forgiven for his temporarily stunted observational skills.

Except, he knew that was really no excuse. Had he been working in the field today rather than slumped at his desk, he'd have been inefficient and sloppy at best, and an outright danger to himself and his new partner at worst. Connor knew he'd have to get some sleep that night; he still had an untouched bottles of sleeping pills in his bathroom cabinet. It was one thing to be impaired by exhaustion when he only had himself to worry about, but he knew that he'd have to do better for his--likely expensive and difficult to repair--partner. Just a temporary situation, and he could handle the nightmares until this entire deviancy issue was…resolved. Yeah, resolved.

It only took a moment for Connor to tamp down on the surprise and frustration that had likely clouded his face the instant he found Hank missing, switching his expression into something easy and neutral. Connor was pretty sure that instead of a resting bitch face, he had a resting "friendly and approachable" face, which served him well when interviewing a witness. Not so much when he was having a shitty day and would rather be avoided like the plague. Face now passive, he scanned over the entire bullpen to locate the android, who should have been exceptionally easy to spot. Apparently, that wasn't really the case, because Connor did a double and then triple-take and still found no sign of Hank. For a brief, stinging moment he wondered if the android had gone off to chase down a lead on his own, but that seemed unlikely. Their forced partnership served a more practical application than having two sets of eyes on the deviant case; androids that weren't registered to the DPD weren't usually allowed into crime scenes. If Cyberlife was dead set on having their own agent investigating, they had no choice but to do so through the DPD. Hank wouldn't have left Connor behind because he needed the human's access. 

Connor spun in his desk chair, realizing that he had already jumped to conclusions before checking the rest of the station--he was fucking exhausted-- and was a little startled to find the missing android stalking up to him purposefully. It seemed like he was coming from the breakroom; the theory was confirmed by the paper cup clenched a little too tightly in one of Hank's large fists. Steam rose from the small hole in the plastic lid, and the closer the android got, the easier it was for Connor to smell the mouth-watering coffee. Caught off-guard for the second time in a minute's span, Connor's mouth parted slightly and he found his tired gaze glued to the little cup of life-saving elixir. He turned again to follow it as Hank slipped back into his seat before offering the drink across their desks.

"You were showing symptoms of acute exhaustion," the android explained unprompted--Connor had been too busy dying for the caffeine to actually care why Hank had brought it, "It would be detrimental to the mission if you were to pass out at your desk." 

"Thank you," Connor all but moaned in genuine gratitude as he took the cup, wondering why it hadn't occurred to him to go get himself coffee yet. His brain was well and truly fried, which should have been concerning, but his favorite cure-all was currently warming his palm and all the detective felt was relief. So relieved in fact that he didn't even wince when the hot, bitter liquid spilled down his throat in a hot rush.

"I was unsure how you take your coffee," Hank continued in his explanation without acknowledging the detective's slightly desperate gratitude, "But Detective Reed helpfully informed me that you drink it black."

Connor most definitely did not like black coffee. Everyone in the department knew who to blame when creamer and sweetener ran out just a little too fast, and whenever Connor bothered to actually go out and buy himself coffee, it was something sugary and probably vanilla-flavored. Detective fucking Reed knew that good and damn well, too. He was just an ass. 

"It's great," Connor lied smoothly. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. Bitter coffee was far better than none at all, and he felt some relief that the other detective's ass-hattery had been limited to what amounted to a harmless prank today. Reed had always had problem with androids, and Connor wouldn't trust the man alone around one for any length of time. "Thank you, really. I appreciate it."

"As I said," the android clipped back, tone never changing even as his LED went yellow for a few seconds, "It was necessary, for the mission."

"Not really." Maybe arguing with an android wasn't exactly a productive way to spend his time, but the detective was nothing if not impossibly stubborn. He leaned his elbows on the desk casually, positioning himself to better see any twitch that might cross Hank's face, beaming gratefully at the android in a way he knew most people found endearing. "You didn't have to do it, but I'm grateful you did."

Another slip in the emotionless mask. Eyebrows drawn down, another almost-there frown before every feature righted itself again. Connor couldn't tell if the look was frustration or confusion, but the brief presence of an expression was somehow reassuring. Maybe it was just the fact that he didn't relish the idea of working with a statue for the foreseeable future. 

"You're…welcome," the android relented after a barely noticeable pause, LED yellow as he forced the words out evenly. The detective offered an even wider grin in return, and downed the rest of the coffee in a few large swallows. It was the perfect temperature, really; hot enough to leave a trail of heat down his throat and chest, but not so hot as to permanently scald his mouth. 

"So, find anything that sticks out to you?" Connor asked, as he had intended to do before. He set the now-empty cup to his right, next to the orderly stack of physical files and mug full of pens that occupied the space closest to the wall. (The mug was absolutely atrocious, tall white ceramic marred by tacky orange and blue stripes of varying width, a jagged chip on the rim that would somehow cut Connor's lip every time he risked drinking from it. Hence, its new position as a pen holder). 

"Possibly." The android confirmed, and Connor felt the caffeine-relief mingling with enthusiasm at the word. "I believe we should start by investigating the most recent report: the AX400 who assaulted its owner last night." 

The detective pulled up the report in question and rubbed his eyes until the words became less bleary and returned to something approaching legible. Luckily, he had been working down the list of cases in reverse chronological order before his eyes and brain decided to stop working, and he could remember the basic details already. "Alright, so the android attacked one Mr. Todd Williams before hopping onto a bus. We could figure out which bus runs the route by the Williams' house, see if we can pull the security feed from the bus and find out where the AX400 got off."

"That is the logical course of action," the android began, and even without a hint of inflection, Connor could hear he 'but' coming, "However, I believe that we should start by re-interviewing the victim."

"And why's that?" Connor asked, surprised, leaning back in his chair. From what he could tell, the report was pretty complete. Maybe a little inconsistent around the edges, but in a way that was likely due to shock over intentional misdirection.

"Mr. Williams reported only the AX400 missing, yet Cyberlife's records show that he is also in possession of a YK500. AX400s are primarily caretakers, and my calculations show a high probability that its deviation would not have severed the artificial bond between it and the YK500. If anything, deviancy should have strengthened the connection into something the AX400 would believe to be real, familial love."

Connor restrained his grimace, but only barely, and a flash of yellow assured him that the android had caught the expression anyway. YK500. A child model, the only sort of android designed to intentionally simulate the full range of human emotion. If the nanny bot had deviated because something had happened to her charge…that was another level of complicated that Connor probably wasn't emotionally prepared to deal with. The past few months--the past life, really--had left him feeling not unlike a stripped screw in the feelings department, more and more worn until eventually all his emotions were just an unhealthy hole that no screwdriver could fill. 

The metaphor was a bit muddled, but the point stood: Connor was exhausted, in more ways than just the obvious sleep deprivation.

Still, he had a job to do. A job he had loved, once, and a job he was still very good at. So he locked his terminal with a tap of a button, stood from his chair with more than a few joints popping in protest, and motioned for his plastic companion to follow. He grabbed another cup of coffee for the road--purposely avoiding so much as a glance at the sweeteners, even as he realized how ridiculous it was to try and spare Hank's feelings. It just felt…rude, and Connor strove to be polite when he could manage it. 

Already far more alert than he had been before, Connor punched the address listed in the report into his car's GPS and set it to manual, taking the wheel in hand; coffee or no, he was fairly certain that the trip would have put him right to sleep had he let the car drive them there. He cranked up the radio, heavy metal shredding his skull in the best way, forcing him to stay awake as surely as the caffeine. When he risked a glance at his passenger and saw the yellow glow and the upward twitch of the android's lips, he couldn't help but grin and turn the music up even more.

[mwolf0epsilon]

DBH - Of Fishers and Seafarers

Sorry for how late this is, I've been struggling a bit with actually finishing this drabble on a lighter note and somehow failed miserably.

In which an android designed to repair NASA's spaceship for the upcoming Io mission, becomes a lot more to the woman that lovingly coded and designed him.

---

    Despite the fact this one project would improve every aspect of deep space exploration efforts, and that it may one day pave the way to the next step of humanity's preservation through the establishing of off-world colonies, NASA's finest did mourn the fact they were sending their most ambitious collaboration into orbit.

It's not that the chief engineers or other assorted members of staff were upset at the prospect of hard work burning up in Io's atmosphere, no the resources and work put into assembling the androids and ship they'd be transported in were not the biggest loss here.

No, they were much sadder knowing that the AIs they'd lovingly programmed and developed, would eventually be lost to the hostility of the vast void beyond.

         It was strange how quickly humanity had gotten used to androids and then begun to openly resent them. From the very beginning when they'd begun launching rovers and other assorted drones into space, NASA executives and lower level workers had always had a special place in their hearts for their robotic workers. But the androids? The androids were held with a degree of respect that far surpassed whatever it is your average Joe or Sally thought of their domestic models.

It wasn't just nerds being nerds and loving their toys. Anyone who tried to say so, would have to face the wrath of Dr. Taylor Fisher, one of the many members of the programming team at NASA, and the self-proclaimed mother of the one AI that everyone was so fond of.

Each member of the android exploration team had a specific set of skills they were built for that fit the role they would play inside the ship, and at least one set of scientists and engineers who adored them, but Taylor's unit was the one that seemed to have captivated the hearts of every human worker within NASA's facilities.

    Taylor was, of course, quite proud of how IO100-P turned out. Having spent so many countless nights fully refining the AI and testing it for bugs and other assortments of issues, she was glad to see the stream of data, inquiries and processes, become something new and unique in its own right.

She was no Elijah Kamski, and her darling Proteus was no Chloe, but she couldn't help just marvel as her project slowly worked it's way into passing the Turing Test.

The other AIs were just as impressive, if not more exciting to test and engage with considering their functions, but somehow her baby had become the most outgoing of them all even if his primary task was focused on repair works within the ship.

He held conversations better, took in information more quickly, and even seemed to retain interests unlike his fellow team members.

He had a personality, which she'd hidden from the stonefaced gargoyles from Cyberlife, but openly shared with her peers.

The first thing she did when she deemed him fit to be put into a body, was seek out the designers and call for some changes to the base design.

 “No no no, he looks too young!” She'd exclaimed “Proteus strikes me as a gentlemanly sort. Older, more experienced.”

 “But he IS very young, Taylor.” The designer, a slightly pudgy man named Rick, sighed “And you know those technicians won't agree to visually unappealing models.”

 “Being older isn't unappealing. A team of spacefarers shouldn't look fresh out of college. They should look respectable!” she'd responded angrily at the mere thought of age being perceived as ugly.

 “Like Cyberlife wants anything but their usual formula…” Rick rolled his eyes in frustration. He agreed with her but he didn't want to upset their collaboration partners.

 “Fuck what Cyberlife's saying! We coded them, we design them.” Taylor snarled “I'm not sending a babyfaced recruit to space!”

It took some work, but they'd managed a small victory. The Androids did not look like eternal doll faced youths, instead looking in between mid-thirties to mid-forties.

They'd promised more pay for the extra cosmetics, but it felt right.

Proteus looked right in her eyes, and it was adorable to look at this remarkable and likeable android, who was both soft-spoken and looked like he could be an average suburban father.

If anything, his love for the three android cats Taylor owned, proved as much.

 “Why three? Was one unit not enough?” He'd asked the first time she'd brought them with her to work.

 “I like cats.” She shrugged “I've always wanted one when I was a kid, but when I saw these three...Eh, call it an impulse buy if you want…”

 “Could you not own a cat when you were a child?”

 “No. At the time android cats weren't in the market, and I'm allergic to cat fur...So yeah...These three are kind of my fuck you to life for giving me a stupid allergy.”

Proteus seemed to consider this before focusing on the three android felines.

Two of them were shaped like the regular domestic model, while the third seemed larger. A common orange shorthair with wide and intelligent looking yellow eyes, a black cat with a noticeable white stripe on her nose and calm blue eyes, and a Bengal cat with forest green eyes. The three had collars of different designs, which merely shared the triangle marker indicating their android nature. They had no visible LED, an aesthetic choice.

 “I've gotten one of them modded to completion.” Taylor stated as he examined the cats that all seemed to be observing him with mild curiosity. “Helps to have a smart cat holding the fort.”

 “Holding the fort…?”

 “It's an expression. Do you want to know their names?” She smiled kindly at the android, who simply nodded. “Alright. The Bengal lady that's currently nibbling on your sleeve is called Terrabyte.”

 “...Pardon but it seems you have mispronounced Terabyte.” Proteus pointed out.

 “Naw, it's a pun. Bengal cats are like, Wilder than regular cats, hence Terra. And then since she's an android, byte seemed like an appropriate contradiction. Nature vs Man and all that jazz.”

 “Ah...I see. I find it an adequate name then.”

 “Good. Lil Terra isn't too refined, she's kind of vintage if you will, but she's lovable. The black one is called Luna. She's in the middle when it comes to intelligence, but that's only because I haven't gotten the time to buy the rest of her upgrades. She's a natural hunter tho, she swats flies straight out of the air!”

 “Luna...Perhaps an homage to your work for NASA?”

 “Nah, I'm just a dumb nerd. I named her after an anime cat.” Taylor chuckled “Sailor Moon kicks ass anyway, and the stripe makes it look like she's destined for greatness.”

 “...I shall have to procure this...Sailor Moon...to understand the context, but I trust the name is fitting?”

 “Oh god I've accidentally introduced anime to my android-son….My bosses are gonna kill me.” Taylor covered her face in amusement before shaking her head “Anyway, last but certainly not least, there's little old Data. He's a smart boy and he's modded to perfection. Intelligent and knows a lot of tricks. Before you ask, yes I named him after another show, but this time it's a sci-fi classic. Who could diss on Star Trek am I right?”

Proteus shrugged

 “I wouldn't know. Perhaps I require more research on the matter.”

 “I guess my boss won't be too angry if I introduce you to Star trek, he was a hardcore Spock and Picard fan when he was younger so... You're gonna love Data. He's the best character and he's like you! An android! In space!”

 “An android in space...Not yet I'm afraid. But soon.”

    Proteus became the primary focus of Dr. Fisher's time until the day he was called in to launch.

It was hard saying goodbye, even harder when he hugged her and confided that he was scared to go to Io, as he knew there would be no way of returning home to her, to his family.

NASA would mourn the android team, Dr. Fisher especially would mourn the loss of the android she painstakingly coded and designed.

Those calm features and brilliant lilac eyes, framed by a pair of glasses that complimented the absurdly adorable academic fashion he prefered, would haunt her dreams for months to come...And more so after the Revolution came to pass. After all, if the spacefarer androids did find a way to return, as impossible as that may be, she may not be around to see her boy again... She could only hope for him that the abyssal tides beyond, would be kinder to him than her health had been to her.

But then again, Proteus was a Fisher, and Fishers were destined to sail the winds of opportunity, be they out at sea or up above in the stars.

[setoangel01-fanfiction]

Flirting with Danger

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: Connor x OC, Connor x Female Reader

Rated: T

Chapter Summary: Gavin attempts put the moves on (who he doesn't know is) Connor's girlfriend - it doesn't go so well. AKA: Once you go Plastic, you don't go back. ;3

Fanfiction.net

A03

Where the fuck was Connor?

That was the only thought currently flitting through her mind as she casually strolled around the spacious office of the DPD Detective unit.

As intriguing as this new environment may had been for the first couple minutes, it wasn't anymore. She'd already read and re-read all the small stickers and notes littering Hank's desk and computer (as hilariously entertaining as that was) as well as felt incredibly morose about the lack of personal effects at Connor's workspace (and reminding herself to buy him something to make it less dreary and depressing later), now she was just egregiously bored.

A digital clock adorning the wall telling her it had already been twenty minutes that she'd been waiting for the RK800 to arrive so they could go on their weekly date night, but so far, there was no sign of him or his partner, Lieutenant Hank Anderson.

Growing agitated, impatient and admittedly anxious with his uncharacteristically prolonged absence, she found herself pulling out her phone.

where r u? ur late! - she quickly messaged her boyfriend.

My sincerest apologies for keeping you waiting but there was a sudden break in a trying case that desperately needing attending. It shouldn't be too much longer since we're finishing up at the crime scene; I should be there within a reasonable amount of time. - The Android wrote back a few moments later with typical perfect punctuation, grammar and spelling.

Fondly rolling her eyes, she shot back - reasonable? wtf does that mean? how long?

I regret to inform you that cannot give you an exact time frame given the situation but what I can give you is a fair estimate of no longer than seventeen minutes including driving time whilst putting traffic into consideration. Is that reasonable by your definitions? - was his written response a few seconds later.

"Dammit…" she muttered. Tempted to not write him back simply to pull at his circuits, but with nothing the fuck else to do, she felt compelled to respond regardless.

its fine. c u soon - she started but added at the end - & u better stay safe, ok?

Leaning her back against Connor's desk and staring at her cell phone, she waited for a notification signaling that he'd written back. While distracted with the glowing screen, she had no idea that her presence inadvertently caught the attention of someone else who happened to stroll into the deserted office.

I intend to remain undamaged so please don't worry about my welfare. I shall see you at the precinct as soon as Lieutenant Anderson and I have completed our task. I look forward to our weekly outing tonight. - his text read and as grumpy as she was for having to wait way longer than intended, she smiled.

Connor was damn near impossible to stay angry at…

me too. xoxo - she sent back, smirking while picturing his cute inquisitive face he'd have while reading it.

"...Uh, hey there," a man's voice right in front of her suddenly materialized. "You lost, doll? You need directions or something?"

Lifting her attention from the cell phone, she was met with the gray-ish green eyes of a man essentially her same (with heeled boots) height. Unshaven face and wolfish grin greeting her might have been roguishly handsome to some women but there was something about his cocky smile that instantly rubbed her the wrong way.

Firming her stance from the previous slouch over her phone, she replied, "No, I'm fine. Thank you."

Thinking the strange interaction was over, she glanced back down at her phone but Connor hadn't responded and probably wouldn't til he arrived. A few brief moments passed and she felt a presence not only nearby, but closer. Raising her eyes, she saw the man had approached her and seemed to be languidly sizing her up. She wasn't sure what to think; curiously stunned that he hadn't left after she answered. While mildly irked by this stranger's sudden (unwanted) presence, she was far from unkind and didn't want to inadvertently offend Connor's coworkers so she gave him a polite (get the fuck away from me) smile before shifting her gaze toward the front doors of the DPD; fervently praying to see a cute head of tousled brown hair and puppy-dog eyes sauntering in much early than anticipated…

No such luck.

Seemingly undeterred by her obvious disinterest in conversing, the man cleared his throat in an attempt at regaining her attention.

"Are you sure? I've never seen you around here before and you're obviously not a new recruit unless we changed up the dress-code… " He didn't even bothering disguising the way his vision casually slid down her body; resting his eyes a second too long on her modest amount of cleavage peeking above her beige top. "Nope. Definitely don't work here." he chuckled.

Hurry up, Connor…

"You're right. I don't," she replied, pocketing her phone against her better judgement.

Shit! She could have simply faked getting a phone call…

The male shrugged, obviously not knowing when to quit; eyes finally meeting hers where he smirked at her with a dodgy glint in his stare. "That's actually too bad. It'd be a nice change to get more women on our force; especially one as attractive as yourself, if you don't mind me saying," he grinned devilishly as he got more into her personal space as if to whisper something. She leaned back a bit from his approach but it didn't deter him from continuing, "'Cause between you and me, babe, our Captain tends to hire way too many dykes."

She really hated being called multiple petnames within minutes of knowing anyone but she held back; really not in the mood to argue with a stranger tonight. Biting out instead, "So? As long as they do their job and do it well, shouldn't that be the only thing that matters? Seems rather ostentatious to ask anything else from them especially if it's something as petty as sexual orientation." Damn, Connor and his ridiculous vocabulary was rubbing off on her worse than she thought...

"Yeah, yeah," he grunted out. "Still would be nice to socialize with a woman at work who can't bench-press more than me."

"How is that their problem?" she asked, lifting a manicured brow at him. If he wasn't going to willingly leave her to wait alone, she had no choice but to play the bitch card.

It didn't work; he just smirked.

Dammit.

"Besides," she covered up her growing unease by slipping some hair behind her ear, "you're working at the Police Station - shouldn't you be focused on your job rather than some office hook up? It's a pretty damn important field of work that requires the utmost concentration on nothing but that task, don't you think?"

He shrugged, "You're right in that regard, and hey, it's whatever. I'm not hating on these woman who'd prefer to sleep with my sister than me, but fuck, it's just when you work as many hours as I do, this is really the only place I can meet people. And it wouldn't look good on my record if I started hitting on the women I arrest," he chuckled.

She outright rolled her eyes at that one, "Ever heard of a bar? Or hell, ain't no shame in online dating anymore, is there? That stigma died out like twenty years ago." Fuck, was she really giving this cocky jerk dating advice? Eh, if it kept him from blatantly hitting on her, she supposed it could be worse.

"I guess not," he sidled closer to her, "But still, the bar scene is tired for me; haven't been there much since I finished training at the Academy. And as far as online dating," he shouldered a grimace before uttering, "...Nah, I'd rather outright meet someone face to face - so hell, can you blame a guy when he walks in at the Police Department right before my shift ends and sees someone like you here - alone, and isn't in handcuffs?"

Having quite enough of his flirtatious behavior, she huffed before outright sliding away from him.

The man shook his head at her action but a smile tugged at his lips, "Relax! Since when is it a crime for a guy to compliment a beautiful woman?"

"It's not. It's a free country so compliment and flirt all you want til you're blue in the face. I don't care. I'm flattered, I am; just not interested so it'll just be a waste of yours and my time." she replied with a shrug.

"Whoa," he muttered, and why the hell did he sound almost impressed? …or was this like a challenge he seemed way too eager to take?

Either way, she didn't like the sound of it.

"Alright then. Playing hard to get but I gotcha. Point taken," he said, and just like that, it was almost as if he realized what he was doing; he straightened up and blurted out, "Aw fucking hell, where are my manners? I'm such an ass, no wonder you're suspicious, I didn't even fucking introduce myself. Sorry. The name's Detective Reed…but you may call me Gavin." he winked, holding his hand out for her to shake but hearing his name only caused her forced smile to fall.

Gavin Reed.

The name she recalled Connor and Hank mentioning on multiple occasions. Multiple colorful stories regarding the infamous Detective Reed and his propensity to be an royal prick signified most of their unpleasant interactions with him but in the forefront of her mind was hearing about three such particular incidences where this man had put a gun to Connor's head. One including a tussle in the evidence room where the man standing before her attempted to kill Connor had her Android boyfriend not had the upper hand on the situation…

Jaw clenching and hands shaking, she crossed her arms. Mouth hardened into a thin line but not wanting to give away her stance on the instantaneous and furious hatred of this man in front of her just yet, she smiled fiendishly behind her sweet demeanor.

Hell, this might actually be kinda fun.

"...You know what?" she chimed, giving him a disarming white smile. "Believe it or not, I've actually heard about you."

Gavin seemed shocked at first but it easily metamorphosed to being a little too giddy about that particular tidbit of information. "Heh. That really ain't no surprise there, babe, I am pretty much a legend around here."

His narcissism apparently knew no bounds…

"Oh really? You don't say…" she hoped she sounded at least mildly interested.

Flashing her a wolfish grin, he replied, "Sure am. Solved 92 percent of the cases handed to me - I know I would be promoted to Lieutenant too if the ol' Drunken Trainwreck retired already," he grumbled and her teeth clenched when she knew for sure he could only mean Hank…

What an absolute dick!

"Eh, it'll happen soon enough…the way he drinks, the fucker ain't living forever," his voice tapered off and she hid the uncomfortable grimace threatening to break her nonchalant mask when he slid his eyes over her again. "…But uh…enough about me."

Forcing herself not to flinch back on instinct, she stayed unmoving as Gavin sidled closer. The detective going as far as leaning his backside against Connor's desk she'd been resting against, hips nearly brushing and close enough to notice the aroma of his overpowering musky cologne - way too damn close for her liking.

"...So, what about you?"

"Not interested."

Gavin outright laughed, "Alright. Well, since ya already seem to be caught up on my illustrious achievements and don't feel like name dropping, how about you answer a question?"

Brows creasing in confusion, she asked, "…what?"

Clearing his throat and sitting up taller, he clarified, "In case you forgot, I work here. They don't let just anyone back here, so, relaying that information, you must have some excuse for hanging around the department this late. So? What is it? Planning anything illegal?" he asked, chuckle lacing his voice. "'Cause if you were, I might let you get off with a warning."

Not taking his flirtatious bait and ignoring his salacious wink, she replied, "If you must know, I'm waiting for someone."

"But they're not here," he waved out into the deserted offices - hell, even Fowler had left before she showed up.

"He will be -"

"Well, he isn't. Heh. Some man he is for leaving you here waiting all alone…"

She couldn't help but snort at that, "As if you would know…"

"Ouch." he smirked, placing a hand on his chest as if physically hit, "Wow, heh. You're feisty, I like that."

Wow, how desperate did he have to be that even being a outright bitch didn't stop his relentless flirting? At the end of her rope and really not feeling as if this was going nowhere good fast, she made a show of gingerly scooting away from Gavin's overbearing presence.

"Aw, don't be like that. I'm just saying that since he dares keep you waiting for this damn long, he's obviously not worth your time…" Undeterred by her less than eager response to his logic, he continued, "Tell you what, in apology for being kind of an ass earlier, how about I'll treat you to dinner?"

Sucking in some air through her teeth, she bit out, "I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate that." she didn't want to play the boyfriend card, but he left her no choice.

"...If this so called boyfriend was so worried, why did he leave you here alone?"

Eyebrows quirked, she couldn't help but crack a smile at that, "Here? Alone? At the Police Station?…Um, yeah, really dangerous here with a bunch of armed cops around."

"Can't trust anyone anymore, babe." he shrugged.

"Oh, even you?"

"I don't bite…unless you want me to," he fucking winked and she had to smile to hide her pained grimace. Dear God, was this guy perpetually stuck in high school?

"No thanks. Now, it's been nice chatting with you but I'm expecting him any minute, so, if you'll excuse me…" she said, pushing herself off of Connor's desk hoping to spend the rest of the wait in the ladies room. Anything to get away from this asshole.

"Don't want him getting jealous huh?" Gavin laughed lowly and it took every ounce of self-control to not punch this guy.

"Hardly," she replied, fully intending to leave when she remained in place at Gavin's next words.

"So, who's this mystery guy you're waiting for, hmm? New recruit? Fowler would give them this shitty shift if they are. Let me guess… Det. Avery? Tall? Sturdy? Kind of a meathead but works well? You dating him? I hope not because, come on, girl, you could do a lot better than that."

Swallowing back some biting remarks, she said, "Even if I was, why would I tell you?"

"You're right. You're way out of his league. ...How about Damien? Would figure you'd date him - Fuckin' pretty boy is always showing off…but I coulda swore the dude was gay though with all the strange looks he shoots me by the urinals…"

She hated how the gay panic that flashed onto Gavin's face almost made her bust out laughing but she definitely wasn't giving him the satisfaction of reacting to any of his jokes even if they were completely unintentional. Regardless, she didn't deny or affirm his suspicions, merely kept her eyes glued to where she fervently prayed Connor would appear any second…

Please…!

Gavin spent the next few moments listing off at least a dozen more men in the precinct but being the detective he was, she should have known her complete disinterest to any of the names other than the vaguest recognition was a bit too obvious that he wasn't guessing correctly…yet.

"...Those are the only single ones I know of and the married ones aren't fucking stupid enough to have their mistress meet them here with all the damn cameras; at least I'd hope not," Gavin chuckled, "All that leaves is the ol' drunktank and…heh, never mind, no way in fucking hell would you be with him."

She froze, eyes slipping over to Gavin who was shooting her an intense, inquisitive look, "...who?" she asked, feeling her breath grow tighter in her chest.

"Sorry, I misspoke, more like an 'it' than anything. Eh, but don't worry about it, it's no one important, just a plastic prick who has been nothing but a fuckin' thorn in my side since Fowler actually re-hired the damn bucket of bolts…" Gavin growled and her fists tightened in the crevices of her crossed arms for hearing this asshole speak about Connor in such a way.

"What are you talking about?" she played dumb, surprised at how calm her voice came out.

"Where have you been? This damn Android Revolution! Can you believe those plastic fuckers actually got constitutional rights and started working again but are getting paid this time? Those damn things killed so many people, including cops, and now we're giving them laws protecting them!? The fuck is happening in this country with all this backwards logic?" Gavin continued and it took everything inside of her not to lash out like she really wanted to. "Fuckin' hell, if it was up to me, I would have ordered them to all been shoved into a trash compactor and be done with those overgrown toasters for good."

Somehow remaining calm and quiet, she kept her poker face on to allow Gavin to dig his grave even deeper - if that was even possible.

"Ya know what I mean? How did these…things get fuckin' rights after everything that happened?" he ranted, his eyes peering into hers as if begging for her complete agreement. "They shut down the entire city for months because of all the damn protests and violence and now suddenly, everything is okay? We're actually hiring the very Androids who shot down Police and civilians just because they decided they now have human emotions?" he let out a disgusted grunt, shaking his head before continuing, "The worst part is Fowler re-hiring that damn Prototype fucker Cyberlife sent to stop the entire damn revolution in the first place! It failed at the one thing it was supposed to do and yet it got it's job back? With pay? It's fucking asinine! These Androids don't deserve laws protecting them! They don't deserve our jobs, protection, money, or anything! You agree, right?" he asked, looking at her and she got irresistible satisfaction seeing Gavin's cocky smile fall when he caught motion over her shoulder.

"Ugh, speak of the fuckin' devil," he groaned under his breath and she couldn't hide her smirk anymore.

Not yet turning her attention to who she knew had finally arrived, she replied to Gavin in a firm, unwavering tone, "No. I don't agree with you whatsoever."

Gavin's eyes averted back to her face and he looked downright insulted but intrigued by her vehement denial.

"Connor deserves everything he has…including me," Allowing a devilish smirk to pull at her plump lips at seeing his widening eyes, she turned her attention to the approaching Android.

"Hey, Connor! About time you got here!" she grinned from ear to ear as she pushed herself off his desk and quickly closed the distance between them.

Not wasting any time, she immediately wrapped her arms around the Android's broad shoulders, hooking her hands near the nape of his neck to give herself some leverage as she lifted herself up on her tiptoes. Connor flashed her a confused smile before she closed her eyes and kissed the RK800 straight on his pretty mouth.

After the briefest pause, Connor's arms slid around her waist as he happily returned the kiss with equal fervor.

She didn't care if Gavin was there watching (in fact, she hoped he was), she tilted her head to deepen the kiss; slipping her hands through the Android's soft synthetic hair to pull him even closer. Taking a moment to simply enjoy the sensation of his soft mouth melding against hers and relishing in the relief of Connor's presence, she let out a pleasant sigh feeling how Connor's fingers curled into the fabric of her sweater. Hands that had such deadly precision when holding a weapon touched her with the most gentle caress; a beautiful contradiction she would never tire of but now wasn't the time or place to dwell on it.

Reluctantly, she pulled away from Connor's tempting mouth with a soft pop; smiling at his pleased reaction to her public display of affection. Feet flat back down on the ground, she turned back to Gavin and the mortified look on his face was utterly priceless.

The shocked Detective's eyes slowly roving from Connor to her and back again as the dawn of realization skimmed over his green eyes and he looked as if he was actually going to vomit.

"I apologize for my tardiness," Connor felt inclined to speak up, completely disregarding the nauseous appearance Detective Reed developed, "I wasn't intending for the case to veer in that direction and Lieutenant Anderson insisted we reevaluate the evidence so I…" Connor's voice tapered off upon seeing how his girlfriend wasn't looking at him anymore. Merely sidled up close to him as if shielding herself from the strange look Detective Reed was giving her.

A sudden heat he hadn't experienced before ignited in his processors, the information sending his thirium pump accelerating into a frantic rhythm. Protectiveness and…anger he hadn't felt since he deviated ignited against his software protocols designed to keep his core to an optimum temperature. A strange sensation he knew instantly tied to his deviancy but as he briefly connected the dots, scanned and appropriated his girlfriend's rather peculiar and uncharacteristic behavior in Gavin's proximity, Connor felt compelled to ask, "...is Detective Reed bothering you?"

Awaiting his girlfriend's response, Connor's eyes didn't dare leave Detective Gavin Reed's reddening face.

The Android languidly scanning the vitals of the man who was obviously baffled by something Connor couldn't articulate; heartrate accelerated beyond its normal limits for such a situation and he was leeching out an uncomfortable amount of heat. Also, Connor really didn't appreciate how close Gavin had been standing to his girlfriend when he'd arrived and how her body language portrayed such a degree of discomfort at said proximity.

If Detective Reed had said or done anything to harm or make her feel threatened, he'd…

"No." she finally answered, calming Connor instantly with a simple word even if he still remained suspicious of the Detective's intentions toward his romantic partner. Connor felt compelled to check the security cameras to make sure the Detective didn't do anything to make her uncomfortable but knew it would have to remain a task for later.

All was soon forgotten though when she spontaneously smiled up at him; wrapping her arms around his waist, one of her hands coming to rest upon his hip joint. He couldn't help but be pleased at the increased affection she was bestowing tonight.

"We were just talking while we waited for you to show up." she clarified and it did lessen the intense thrum of his warning sensors.

Connor nodded, lifting his visual line from her face to Gavin, where with a quick scan, he noticed Gavin's heartbeat dropped tremendously to a more normal level at her words. Interesting.

"Good." Connor voiced his approval, eyes remaining steadily on Det. Gavin Reed's every move but Connor felt compelled to smile at his co-worker regardless of any lingering doubts that remained. "Thank you for keeping my girlfriend company while she waited for my tardy arrival, Detective." Connor continued kindly. He was grateful that at least his girlfriend didn't have to wait at the office completely alone so thanking him was only proper. Connor's sensors picked up the slight movement upon his hip joint where her fingers pressed into the denim of his jeans. At her slight tug and what he believed was her asking for a return in her affections, he gladly shifted his arm to lift and rest comfortably across her shoulders.

She smirked while gleefully watching Gavin's mouth opening and closing three times like a drowning fish before he finally replied to Connor, "Oh. She's your g-girlfriend, huh?"

"Yes. We've been dating three months and seventeen days," Connor affirmed, sounding so fucking proud that it had her arm tightening around his waist and slipping her shoulder comfortably in the crevice of his armpit. She really was incredibly lucky to find someone like Connor, it was kind of ridiculous.

Gavin all the while kept meeting her eyes as if having an internal panic attack in the presence of the Android (for good reason given their history) but she kept her gaze firm, letting the Detective know just how close he came to the edge tonight. Confident he wouldn't go blabbing about his hatred of Androids to strangers much anymore after this; at least she hoped not.

"Oh Wow. Uh. Yeah. G-Good for you, ya lucky bastard." Gavin attempted at a light, jokey tone but the grimace curling his features was too easy to detect.

"Thank you, Detective." Connor replied with a smile regardless of how disingenuous Gavin's words were.

She flashed Gavin a withering stare in warning and it seemed to do the trick for he grunted out. "Yeah. No problem. It was uh, nice to meet ya, miss."

"Likewise," she replied, lifting her hand to pat Connor's chest to get the Android's attention, "Well, since you kept me waiting so long, we have to hurry; the movie is gonna start soon."

"Of course. I'll drive us in your car if you don't mind."

"That's fine."

"If the traffic conditions are similar to when I arrived, we should be able to make it approximately four minutes before the previews end as long as you don't require refreshments beforehand," Connor informed and she shook her head at just how fucking cute he was. Not being able to help herself, she pushed herself up on her tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss.

"Sounds great. Let's go," she replied, turning to Gavin before continuing, "Sorry for running out in this titillating conversation, but we have to go. I hope you have a good night, Gavin," she smiled at the Detective who was still on the verge of hyperventilating.

Connor nodded, "Yes. Have a pleasant evening, Detective Reed. I'll see you again here for another workday tomorrow at 8am sharp."

Gavin, seemingly ripped out of whatever spell he was under, replied between clenched teeth, "Oh. Uh, yeah. See ya tomorrow. Hope you two have fun."

"Oh, we will," she replied with a smirk and a wink, keeping eye contact with Gavin as she smoothly guided Connor to turn back to the front entrance and in a last 'fuck you' to the asshole detective, she casually slipped her hand into Connor's back jean pocket as they strolled out of the sliding glass doors.

Hammering heart finally slowing amidst his shot nerves, Gavin stood there for a good five minutes processing the interaction long after the couple disappeared from his vision.

"Fucking Androids and fuckin' Android fuckers!" he shouted in frustration to no one in particular before storming out the back entrance of the DPD.

Seriously, fuck Gavin - such an unbearable cocky asshole… It's guys like Gavin that make it certain plastic dick is the future. XD

Oh, and this is the universe where Connor kicked Gavin's sorry ass in the evidence room so obviously, Gavin knows it would happen again should he overstep his boundaries. XD

[bubblegumbunnyb1tch]

Checking Databases...

▶ History

> REBOOTING… > RUNNING DIAGNOSTICS...

This program was first activated 6 years ago [ 25/12/?? ]. It has been [ 1 YEAR, 8 DAYS, 38 MINUTES, 27 SECONDS ] since last activation. Location file is CORRUPTED.

> Synthenix Registration expired. This program is currently: OFFLINE.

> Damage registered in 27 COMPONENTS. STATUS: CRITICAL. Outer shell paneling breached, attempt to correct display in progress.

> Female model detected. Medium Lapin model detected. Restoring panel display.

> OPTIC COMPONENTS : FUNCTIONING. NEON CHROMA L0VESTRUCK DISPLAY RESTORED.

> HAIR FIBER : FUNCTIONING. LIGHT FUNCTION RESTORED.

> SHELL PANELS : UNABLE TO REPAIR HULL BREACH. MISSING COMPONENT. UNABLE TO COMPLETE REACTIVATION OF SKINTOUCH (TM) SENSORS. MAINTAINING CORE HEATING PANELS.

> PERSONALITY CORTEX : CORRUPTED. LAST KNOWN SETTINGS WILL BE PARTIALLY RESTORED.

ERROR.

ERROR.

ERROR.

ERROR-

> START AGAIN ?

> Y / N

> YES

June came to on the greasy workbench of the notorious Cinixian scrapper Vance. Bewildered, disoriented and missing most of the data that should have stabilised her, she had a few breaths of smoggy Cinixian air before having her cords pulled.

She’d soon find out it was both a blessing and a curse to awaken under Vance’s capable hands as a retired bot. For one, you’ll certainly get a second lease on life; if you’re lucky enough to regain some kind of consciousness, then you know you survived being little more than spare parts for his other projects. On the other hand… For somebody half bionic, he didn’t seem to have much empathy for androids or conscious machines.

He’d had just enough pity not to leave her lying where he’d found her. June was in a pretty sorry state when she was pulled from the oily, oozing piles of Aivu trash. A double amputee, already half torn apart by scavenger rats, scalped and raided for chips, there wasn’t much left to her. With just the Synthenix certification logo branded into her flank and part of the iconic legs that signified her as a Lapin model, she should have been left there to rot in the radioactive rain. In their former glory, those pretty rabbit legs should have felt like supple flesh to the touch, lightly furred and downy on the calves with sweet padded bunny toes. Popular for their services in Aivu clubs, charming manner and chimera-like design, it was strange to see a Lapin in the trash, like an abandoned doll discarded by a spoilt child. Vance saw value in her somehow, and hauled her out to his bootlegging shop, to see what she had left in her shell.

He tried her out for quite a few roles before finding one that fitted. She lacked a voice chip or a compatible lower jaw replacement to make a good assistant at the shop or a satisfying escort, and was much too lithe to be any good at finding and carting heavy salvage. No, she was to be bound for the fighting rings, and a base this good was worth putting some time into.

Perhaps foreshadowing things to come, she turned out to be quite the expensive investment.

He refitted her with new weaponised arms and repaired the panelling on her legs, albeit without the Skin-Touch function that would mask their mechanised look, and salvaged her original skull with exposed panels. None of the finer details were deemed necessary, like a voicebox or nurturing the damaged personality settings. None of that would show up in the ring anyway. 

The final touch was to find her a signature piece so she stood out in the arena — premium hair fibre. Color changing optic fibre, fully customisable with gradient or solid color, glow or natural finish. The perfect specimen, if you will, for a stand-out battle star. Almost as luxurious as her former life on Aivu must have been… There was one problem with that though. For an android that was supposed to be wiped to a clean slate, with a high-brow history of serving the celebrities, she kept… glitching.

She’d snap, or snarl, or even strike at him when he went to work on her new arms, before resuming a peaceful idle, as though lashing out at ghost memories. Despite having no voice chip, she was very vocal about her disdain for being touched. So much for Synthenix’s ‘built-in panic button’ and reset functions. No matter how many times he pulled the plug, she retained this stubborn trait. The more he worked on her, the more she frustrated him with her bared teeth and feral behaviour. She was like an animal who had been dragged from its den. June should have had no memories attached to her, but still she fought and struggled that she should be primed and designed for somebody else’s purpose. It was clear she was extremely faulty, and deserved her place down here in the trash and muck. Who knew what had happened to her before she was found on Cinixia.

There was no doubt that she’d make a feisty fighter in the ring though, so he lost all patience or semblance of gentleness when working with her. He spent no time problem-solving her issues or the question of her origin after that. So be it if she were an unpleasant bitch to work with? All the better for when she fought in the ring.

Thrust into the fights, she cleaned up the lower rungs of scrap metal with ease. It didn’t matter what she was handed, be it a crowbar or sheet of metal, she’d mash the opponent back into the unrecognizable junk they’d come from. It was almost unheard of to see such brutality from a ‘luxury’ bot against her former kin, which seemed to strike a chord with a downtrodden crowd, who all had their bitterness and grudges to hold against the more glamorous upper class. After months of building up resentment for Vance and her confusing place on Cinixia, it felt good to let loose and get rewarded for it. Synthenix androids were wired to simulate pain, and that system was sure as hell working, but Vance didn’t care. Every open wire, each smashed panel, every dent was another line in her mind that she was counting to get back at him.

Though she didn’t know why she felt so much spite from her former life, she kept it close to her and started shaping her behaviour based on what did well with the crowd. Whatever got the loudest cheer, the best revenue, the biggest crowd – it didn’t matter how brutal or dirty or low it was, she’d do it, because there was an escape through the success. Doing better here meant maybe she’d get a chance to reach for something better out there in the stars… maybe those weren’t feelings a robot was ever supposed to have, the concept of freedom, or yearning, or hunger for success and a life with choice, but there must have been a reason she’d fallen from grace in the first place. There was clearly something wrong with her, but she kept it quiet. She didn’t want to think of what Vance would do with her if she started keeping more opinions.

Pretty soon, she started to pick up sponsors, who would pay impressive bets and sums of money to see her go at things with a specific weapon or sport a hair color or ethium fuel color in her veins, just for them. She became something of an arena idol, the scrapyard’s brutal ‘darling’. If you paid enough, she might just see you after the show and smear some bot-blood on your cheek with a kiss. If the cameras wanted a smile, she’d beam. If they wanted a snarl, then she’d do it with her teeth through her opponent’s neck. June became the manicured favourite of the scrapyard, and it showed in the monetary rewards for Vance. The only time she saw any of it was for weapons or panel upgrades to benefit Vance.

With the funds and the bets coming through, Vance was able to make some better upgrades. She was finally rewarded with a limited voicebox and some improved motor functions. The crowd wanted more content from their star, more personality, more interaction, more this, more that, more, always more. It became apparent pretty quickly that the crowd would grow bored if she simply continued to brawl. He started looking for another gimmick to market her as.

Vance began to offer her as an exclusive escort service, for a premium far beyond the means of most on Cinixia. It was no small secret that occasionally the precious and haughty Aivu denizens would come to Cinixia for the darker entertainment, and services like the one June offered were hard to come by. Being pampered in a private booth at the event or overnight after the event was a little more exciting than watching it remotely after all. As a bodyguard with a vicious reputation and a satisfyingly snappy pet to put on a leash for a night, her new line of work proved especially lucrative. With that, came plenty of people willing to push the boundaries of what the sketchy contract outlined, and rather happily just paid for damages the morning after.

June began to lash out more in her matches, not simply besting her opponents, but crushing them and smashing them with her bat long after the bell had sounded. She had to be pulled from the scraps of her opponent’s corpse, savaging her new weapons beyond use. It started to turn some of her fans off. She lacked any kind of game conduct she might have initially had to please them. Some even began to wonder if she was buggy, or was about to go rogue. Her unpredictability excited some and scared others, who didn’t like to think what an android with broken reigns might do to those who brutalised it.

There was one exception to the demanding and prissy customers she usually satisfied— a mysterious Andoran female named Solara became something of a regular guest. She was strange in her own way, with a dark veil she never removed and an air of secrecy about her. She would only ever visit in the night, when the jewels that lined her veil sparked and glimmered as though they trapped eerie flames inside. At times, Solara would talk of Aivu and life there, of all the luxuries and the appeal of the galaxy beyond. June would listen distantly, as it was not written in her codes to dream.

Despite that, every now and then, their talk of the stars and strange species that weren’t made of scrap metal and salvage caught her attention. There was something so enticing and dreamy about the way she laughed and recounted stories of pleasant evenings, conversations stretched long out into the early hours, strange and curious visitors from distant stars who were not simply seeking a bloody spectacle. It was not just for show either— Sol would bring her secret trinkets and almost instinctively knew what June wished for, like a premium voicebox, or a companion AI for her favourite weapon. She started enjoying the privileges that an Aivuan life seemed to offer, and craved more. Perhaps there was more to an existence than having her wires torn out by the fistful and fighting to retain her memories each time she was knocked out.

The more she thought about it, the more that possibility appealed to her. “There’s a whole galaxy waiting out there, waiting for you to explore it,” Solara would promise with a dreamy tone, gloved hand curled under her veil against her cheek. June’s job was simple when they were together: listen, keep the mistress company, and always guard the door. It soon became apparent Solara wanted more than just the temporary visits. Their talks of freedom became more frequent. She was fascinated by June as an atypical android, as a machine with budding thoughts and feelings and opinions. Solara would bring exotic fabrics and talk of idols, off-world news and more promises of escape. “Come with me back to Aivu, join me. I’ll find you a life that means something, all that money and fame and fun you’re missing. Join me, and you’ll never look back.”

And June listened. She was done with playing pet and seeing none of the reward. It made news on the radios pretty soon after – Star Missing, Shop Ransacked! Android Gone Rogue? In a violent spat, June had upended her obedience software, maimed Vance and fled the shop to escape with Solara off-world. Things finally seemed to click for her and why she’d always felt so restless in her programs. Maybe it was these same feelings that got her disabled in the first place. Solara was one of the few people she’d met who seemed to be fascinated instead of agin her thirst for independence and identity.

They were both well aware that rebooting and starting a new life wouldn’t be as simple as just relocating. Vance had a reputation for being a jealous and thorough man. He was no charity service for sharing his work and investments, and had a web of failsafes to track reclaim his stolen goods. They spent a few months on Aivu, staying in smaller clubs and bars, beginning a name for Juniper as an idol, but it was apparent they would never be safe to stay. Solara eventually relented and conceded that June should move on, maybe chasing that tip they received the other night about… Bounty Hunting?

She’d be perfect for it, surely. Not the most sophisticated, or with the best training or tools or weapons, but that could all come with time. For now, it was an out, another escape pushing them ever onwards. 

Solara stayed put on Aivu and sent June off with a ship of her own and all the support she could need to fend for herself. She processed several new emotions during this time; grief, loneliness, homesickness, all attached to the absence of her first true supporter. She was yearning for the recognition and thrills she had shared with Sol on Aivu, and started searching for something to fill that gap.

Once far enough away and settled with her new creditations as a bounty hunter, June found her love of music. Being a digital icon the most rewarding and fulfilling job she had experienced yet, and it kept her connected digitally to Sol, through recommendations, feedback, and genuine support. Between jobs she could stream from the comfort of her ship, planet-hopping and experiencing everything the local galaxy had to offer. She’d be damned if she didn’t enjoy living it up like a true Aivu citizen, but earning funds the Cinix way. Vance might be on her tail every time she location pinged a stream, but the thrill of the chase kept her going. That was the spirit of Ancestor as a sponsor, wasn’t it? Solara’s words spurred her onwards.

There’s always something bigger and better out there, so get to chasing little rabbit.

[xsparklingravenx]

humans, or rather, the idea of " human " is important to both Android and Machines, so a fanfic about android/machine encountering a living human would be interesting

(i know this isn’t exactly what you wanted, but I’ve been thinking about this all day and this is the best I could come up with! I assumed it was Nier Automata that you wanted, so that’s what I went with!)

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9S found the airtight treasury in the abandoned desert complex, hidden away in the nook of a collapsed building. 2B had gone ahead, scouting out the area for any machines that might do them harm. “Take a look around, see if you can find anything that will be useful.” she’d said before she’d left him. “I’ll take out anything that comes our way.”

He’d been sore to see her leave; hunting around for upgradeable materials was boring enough under the best of circumstances. Without 2B there for him to chat at, he resigned himself to a long and lonely hunt through the complex that would likely prove fruitless in the end. He and 2B had been through here countless times before, and it had never dredged anything useful up.

That was why he was so surprised when his scans turned up the sealed nook, an area entirely protected by collapsed debris. It was well tucked away; he’d never noticed it before. Energised by the prospect of a new discovery, he picked his way through the rubble and began working away at the mess. Pod 153 assisted, carting away anything too heavy for him to pull himself.

There was something hidden beneath it all, protected from weather and time. It was a small box with a complex looking lock on it, similar to other boxes he’d come across before. “Analysis: hacking will be required for Unit 9S to access the contents.” Pod 153 said. 9S had already started up the sequence, knowing it would be required.

The lock on the box was simple enough. He’d encountered training games that had put up more of a fight. When it cracked open with a satisfying pop, he grinned and bumped his fist against Pod 153’s. “Nice and easy, right?”

Taking a step forward, he felt as if he shouldn’t be rough with this box. 2B would have kicked it open without a care, and so would he under normal circumstances, but this was a box that had survived who knew how many years undisturbed. He admired it in a strange way. He could only go a few days at best without needing some kind of maintenance.

“Want to bet on what’s inside?” he asked his Pod as he knelt down beside it.

“I will not take a bet, but I believe it will contain documents about the old world.”

“What, the kinds that Pascal is interested in?” 9S asked. His curiosity was burning. He and 2B had found all sorts in these kinds of boxes, flyers or pamphlets or newspaper articles detailing a world they would never know but fought to bring back anyway. The writings that the humans had left behind were incredible, 9S thought, even if he didn’t always understand them. He longed to know what had driven them to make those items, to write those words down.

Carefully, he cracked the box open. Like the ones they’d come across previously, it was nearly empty. All that resided inside it was a slim, black folder. “Oh?” he said, picking it up gently.

It was dusty but otherwise in perfect condition. He inspected it from every angle before finally deciding to open it. 2B would want to see it, but he just couldn’t wait. It was hard coded into him, an absolute need to know, a desire he could never quite quench no matter how much information he absorbed.

Inside the folder were plastic pockets, and each pocket contained a photograph. 9S’s eyes widened behind his visor as he realised what he was looking at, a small sound of excitement escaping from his lips. He knew what these were, knew that humans had once taken photos to capture moments in time. They had memories that were unlike the perfect recall that androids had. Whereas 9S could retain everything that he saw and replay it at will, human memory was more on the unpredictable side. Things could be forgotten, or remembered wrongly, or even just made up.

“This is incredible,” he said, more to the air than Pod 153. The pictures seemingly depicted a family, a woman and a man and two children. The woman had beautiful hair, wavy and long, and the man had a strongly defined jawbone similar to the ones 9S had seen on androids in the resistance camp. The children, two girls, always seemed to be doing something different. Riding bicycles, playing with dolls, sitting on their mother’s lap. One was a close up of the man’s face, an unflattering angle that showed him laughing.

9S felt a pang inside his chest. It was a kind of pity, he realised. Humans had always been a concept to him, something he knew existed on the moon but also something too far for him to every really consider. Even when he’d been reading what they had written, or looking at what they had created, he still couldn’t conceptualise the humans as actual beings. To him, they were God-like, unreachable, something to be saved.

Here, in front of him, he saw the evidence not just that they had existed, but that they had in fact lived. They had had lives and children and relationships. It was almost too large a scope for him to wrap his head around. 21O would want to see them, he thought. She was interested in weird stuff like human families.

The photographs were beautiful, every single one of them. They were a physical reminder of lives that had once been lived that 9S could never understand, and there was something a little bit incredible about that. He wanted, he realised, to have something like this of himself and 2B. His memory was perfect, yes, but a physical object that showed they had once been together at a specific moment in time was something amazing.

“9S? Are you in here?”

He turned halfway. 2B was stood at the entrance of the debris, her head tilted. “Found anything useful?” she asked.

He grinned, gesturing to the folder in front of him. “Check it out, 2B! I found this thing – I think humans called it a photo album – and it’s amazing! There are pictures of a real human family in here, have a look.”

She took it from him when he passed it over, her delicate fingers flipping each page as she took in the pictures. “A good find.” she said. “Though I don’t see much the point in taking a photo.”

“What? It’s so you can have a real thing to hold, obviously!” 9S said, stunned that she couldn’t see what he evidently did when he looked at them. “Don’t you think that’s beautiful, 2B? To have a physical memory of something?”

She looked up at him sharply, her mouth parted slightly. Then she shook her head, glancing back down. “Our memories are enough. There’s no need to make anything permanent.”

“So you wouldn’t want to?” 9S said, feeling a little bit like he’d been shot down. “If we ever found a camera that worked, I mean. You wouldn’t want to take a photo together?”

Her hold tightened on the photo album. “It’s unlikely we’d ever find something of the sort anyway. But anyway, this is a good discovery. The Commander will be pleased.” 2B paused, snapping it shut. “Ready to go?”

That was 2B speak for, this conversation is over. He sighed, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, I’m ready.”

The sides of her mouth were tense, as if she wanted to say more but was stopping herself. After a moment, she turned her back and left.

He followed behind, imagining if they did find a camera. Would she smile, he wondered? Or would she let him take silly pictures like the close up ones in the album?

Neither, he thought. But he’d definitely get one of them together, just so he could have something to keep, something solid and infallible and of them.