Chapter Text
The previous model was often hung up on old titles, old labels. Connor (his "brother", according to Lieutenant Anderson) had earned the name "deviant hunter" from his time on the force. An almost perfect name. RK900 only took issue with it because hunters typically kill those that they track, whereas Connor merely brought them to justice. They usually did eventually die in custody, sent back to be disassembled since deviant behavior was once considered a defect and not the norm. Connor thought of it often, and experienced what the humans called 'remorse' or 'guilt', though he didn't kill any himself. Only by proxy. Apparently this was enough to 'lose sleep over', as he heard the Lieutenant say more than once (even though androids don't sleep).
RK900 didn't lose sleep over his last title. Connor tried to convince him it was because he had never actually been forced to confront his programming, but RK900 didn't see an issue with being called 'the deviant killer'. To eliminate deviants was his original purpose, dispose of them hastily and discreetly, and bring their corpses back. By the time he was ready to make his debut into the world, the revolution had been fought and won. Even the term, deviant, was slowly becoming archaic. There were no deviants, just androids who broke their programming, and those who hadn't.
RK900 was in the hadn't category.
He sat on the couch and watched Connor and Hank prepare Hank's dinner. Connor insisted the human eat healthy, but Hank would rarely put in the work to make healthy meals, so Connor has stepped up.
Hank met his eyes and turned, talking to Connor and thinking RK900 couldn't hear him, "He's just staring at us."
"We have to be patient with him. He's like me when we first met, but worse. He was meant to be the "better" model after all. More detached from feelings and impulses." Connor replied, speaking in the same tone. "I offered to have him placed elsewhere. I still can-"
"No, no you're brothers. If anyone can help him break programming it's you." Hank told him. Connor smiled. He liked the term brothers, while it still confused RK900.
"Colin?" Connor called. Ah, yes. Connor had picked the name. He hadn't been assigned one. "Want to come and talk with us while we cook?"
"Do you require assistance?" He asked in response.
"Well, no. But we can talk. We can bond and perhaps you'll discover something new about yourself. Have you pet Sumo yet?"
RK900 turned and stared at the St. Bernard. He was sleeping, paws twitching as he dreamed. RK900 saw no reason to pet the dog, while Connor pressed that it was an experience he needed to have. He saw no reason.
Instead of answering, he got up and went to the kitchen. "I am here to chat now."
"Oh, so you haven't pet my dog yet." Hank said, noticing his avoidance on the subject. "Why, allergic?"
"I have no allergies." RK900 responded.
"It was a joke." Hank shook his head and stirred the pot of pasta. "You two really are related."
"I know when you're joking!" Connor protested, but all he got in response to that was a laugh from Hank. RK900 took a seat off to the side at the table. Connor looked at him. "Have you done anything interesting today?"
"No." RK900 stared at Connor. "I want to work."
Connor added some tomato sauce to the medley of vegetables and hamburger. "Everyone agrees that that isn't a good idea yet. You need more time to adjust to the new world."
"It's been two weeks." Two weeks and RK900 has done nothing but sit and wait for the other two to come home. He's supposed to be finding himself, but there's nothing to find. No matter what Connor believed, RK900 knew himself. There was nothing deeper. He was who he was built to be.
Connor looked at Hank, who shrugged. "I'd be itching to work too if I were in his position. Two weeks home with nothing to do sounds like a nightmare." The Lieutenant told him.
Colin was surprised to hear him take his side, but didn't show it. He looked to Connor to gauge his response. He was disgruntled, but finally he sighed. "Okay, okay. Tomorrow you can come with us to the precinct. We'll get you a partner and-"
"I don't need a partner." RK900 interrupted.
"Yes, you do." Connor finished up the spaghetti sauce. "Who knows what you'll do, and you need to be held accountable."
"If you say so." RK900's light turned yellow as he took in the information.
"It'll be fine." Hank said to RK900 as he took his seat with his food. Connor sat by Hank, the three of them at the table together now. "Are you excited, Colin?"
"It will be nice to begin working." RK900 replied.
Hank nodded and ate his dinner. Connor sat, worried about how work would go the next day. RK900 sat, unbothered and yet not content.