Chapter Text
January 15th, 2039, 3:13 AM - Detroit
The streets were silent. The battle for freedom had ended two months earlier, and thanks to Markus’ peaceful yet resolute leadership, androids had finally earned their rights. Everything was still a work in progress—for both humans and androids.
President Warren had been urged to resign due to her aggressive handling of the crisis, the extermination camps, and the military's violent intervention. The Vice President had taken over and was now working to organize Congress in a way that would satisfy both humans and androids.
Simon and Josh had been appointed to negotiate with humans on a political level and now represented androids worldwide in the Council.
The eyes of the world were fixed on the events unfolding in the northern United States, and Deviancy had reached every inhabited corner of the globe. Public opinion, now supportive of the android cause thanks to Markus’ charisma, was slowly adapting—robots were seen as family members or at least tolerated as a new sentient species.
In his secret lakeside hideout, Elijah Kamski smiled frequently, even though his Chloes had left him to lead their own lives. He had foreseen the Deviant Hunter's emergence. There was always a plan B in his programming. RA9 had done its work. Now his creations were free…
Two of those creations, among the most deeply involved in the entire affair, weren’t asleep. They stood atop the CyberLife Tower—now headquarters of the android cause—talking softly while watching the sleeping city below. Production of their kind had resumed, as requested.
Markus ran a hand across his tired but handsome face.
“I don’t know what to tell you. If you feel you need to do this, then do it...”
Connor sighed, returning his gaze to the city lights.
“I need to leave this place, Markus. I’ve stayed too long. My mission is complete.”
Markus smiled. He understood. He, too, was tired of being the symbol, the leader. He wanted to return to being the Markus who played piano and played chess with Carl... God, how he missed Carl. Connor was right. Their work here was done.
“You know what, my friend? Let’s both leave tomorrow. North can take my place—she’s been dying to boss everyone around anyway.”
Connor smiled. He knew Markus would understand.
“Thank you,” he simply said.
They exchanged a smile and went their separate ways for the night.
The next morning, at the base of the tower, a grumpy yet satisfied North had accepted the leadership. Markus, with a travel bag over his shoulder and the long, worn coat that had seen the revolution, had already called Carl and couldn’t wait to see him again.
Connor, now back in his protocol uniform, was adjusting his tie, unfazed by the soft snow falling into his dark hair.
“Where will you go now?” he asked Markus once he was satisfied with his appearance. Since becoming Deviant, he’d discovered a mild vanity and obsession with order.
Markus smiled, a new light in his weary eyes.
“Home. I’m going back to my father.”
“That’s wonderful, Markus,” Connor said with a hint of melancholy. Markus had memories and bonds formed long before Deviancy. Connor’s only pre-Deviant memories were blurry, tied to programming... and Lieutenant Anderson.
“What about you, Deviant Hunter?” Markus asked, curious.
Connor hesitated, his LED flickering yellow for days now.
“I think I want to go back to being a cop. It was in my original programming... and I liked it.”
He bit his lip, remembering the adrenaline of chasing Rupert over the city farm rooftops. He knew he had no veins, no hormones, no glands. But still—it felt real.
“Do you have somewhere to go?”
The LED turned red.
“You can stay with me and Carl, if you—”
“No, thank you.” Connor smiled faintly. “I need to see my partner.”
“Partner?”
“Lieutenant Anderson. He was my partner during the Deviant investigation.”
The LED turned blue. A soft smile, a hint of bluish blush.
“He changed me, Markus…” he whispered. “I think we changed each other.”
Markus scanned him. Connor’s heart rate had increased. His LED glowed a deep blue—brighter than he’d ever seen.
“Then you should go to him.”
“I think I will.”
“Then our paths divide, my friend. Without you, we’d have been lost.”
“We’d have been lost without your song, Markus.”
They hugged like brothers, so alike yet so different, now bound forever.
The phone rang.
Hank tripped over Sumo, who was sleeping by the bed.
“Goddamn it, Sumo! Right here of all places, you fat sack of—”
The dog looked up with soulful eyes and promptly went back to sleep.
Hank sighed, fondness tugging at his lips. He could never stay mad at Sumo…
Still groggy, he followed the persistent ring to the kitchen. Whoever it was, they were damn persistent—and inconsiderate to call at 5 in the morning!
Unknown number. The screen kept flashing.
He decided to answer just to yell at whoever was calling.
“Yeah?!” he growled.
“Good morning, Lieutenant Anderson. This is Connor.”
“...Lieutenant Anderson? Are you there?”
“Holy shit, Connor! It’s really you!”
“Um… yes, it’s me.”
Hank collapsed into a chair, running a hand through his hair.
“Jesus Christ, Connor! I saw you on TV. Thought you got killed!”
“No. I’ve been helping Markus at Jericho, mediating with humans.”
“I was worried sick, goddammit! You could’ve called!”
“…I didn’t think you’d care.”
“What the hell are you saying?! You’re my partner, you stupid tin can! You’re my friend!”
“I… I consider you a friend too, Lieutenant Anderson.”
“Hank.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Call me Hank, you stupid android! And don’t you dare ‘sir’ me again—I’m not that old!”
Connor flushed blue with relief that Hank couldn’t see.
“O-Okay… Hank.”
“We have to meet up, Connor!”
“I’d like that very much… Hank.”
“7:00 at Chicken Feed?”
“I’m 7.6 kilometers away. I’ll arrive at 7:06.”
“Fine. See you then, Connor.”
“See you soon, Hank.”
The Lieutenant stood outside Chicken Feed, arms crossed beneath the gently falling snow. His graying hair sparkled beneath the flurries, and his worn coat fought off the cold. He tapped his boots and waited—not for something, but someone. The one who had saved his life, who had pierced his shield of bitterness with quiet kindness.
Connor.
He had changed everything. Not just the world—but Hank. And now he was back.
Hank tried to calm himself. Connor would probably scan him and he didn’t want to seem nervous.
A soft sound in the snow. Hank turned.
There he was—upright, sharp suit, perfect hair save for that rebellious strand. He looked factory-new… but different. Warm. Human.
Hank stepped forward with a crooked smile as Connor approached slowly.
Before Connor could speak—he had prepared 17 neutral phrases, 7 witty jokes, and 62 friendly greetings—he found himself pulled into a tight hug.
He hadn’t expected that…
But he hugged Hank back, grateful he was alive, here, and happy to see him.
They held each other for a long time—Hank’s unshed tears hidden, Connor’s yellow LED flashing for all to see.
“You’re alive, Connor!”
“Yes… I’m alive.”