InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Happy yesterday to all."

ᴄᴏɴɴᴏʀ (cyberlife) wrote in theconsolelog,
@ 2018-06-19 23:24:00

Entry tags:

connor, hank anderson

WHO: Hank Anderson & Connor ~~The Android sent by Cyberlife~~
WHERE: New Leaf Village
WHEN: June 18th
WHAT: Blinking from one crazy world into a new one
WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN - And Hank will probably curse. He likes doing that.
STATUS: In-Progress

Androids had no real sense of time seeing as they didn't necessarily need to keep a schedule. Connor only had to allocate dates with evidence and instructions. But needless to say, the battle for Detroit had easily been the longest day Connor had ever witnessed. He had become deviant, opened his eyes, and apparently found what he was truly looking for. Along with aiding Markus in a peaceful rebellion to save their people most of the events seemed as though they should have been much more spaced out. Yet they happened all the same, he'd had no time to sit and analyze, try and come up with excuses for his actions or avoid the inevitable any longer.

And it felt good. It felt right. If he could say that he knew what that was supposed to feel like.

He did now know what it meant to be free of his programming, Amanda, and CyberLife. While the cause for androids was important, Connor wouldn't have been able to do anything or be anyone without Hank. When things were settled he took to meeting at Hank's favorite self-contaminating food stand, long since abandoned after the night had passed. Almost ghostly, yet peaceful. His friend was safe and that was what mattered to Connor. Had he seen him smile like that before? Not sarcastically or when he'd been trying to goad the presence of what Connor had been trying to deny for their entire investigation? Probably not. It made Connor smile too. One he didn't have to try and force for the sake of emoting, it just, pulled to the corners of his lips. Before he knew it his human companion had also yanked him against his shoulder, the android catching his balance and gripping Hank at first in mild confusion but returning the gesture more easily. A hug, a simple thing he'd seen humans do plenty of times but what did it really mean?

Connor closed his eyes but briefly, letting his head rest against Hank's shoulder--which smelled like whiskey and Sumo--and he let himself feel again. It was care. And Connor was thankful he meant more than just a machine or a means to an end to anyone. Especially Hank.

The feeling was short-lived as he opened his eyes again, blinking quickly, letting go of Hank and glancing around them. "What..where.." The LED on the side of his temple wound yellow as he ran a scan of their environment. He didn't need to in order to see they were no longer at The Chicken Feed. Or Detroit. It was not snowing, it was sunny, birds were chirping, things were green and the environment was lush with life. The sky was blue and in the distance, homes, a town center...talking animals. His scans only analyzed the name of the town and how many miles it spanned. It didn't make any sense. Connor tensed, briefly panicking that his emergency exit had failed and this was another program to trap his interface.

The familiar bark of a certain Saint Bernard beside them pulled the android from his recoil, but his LED was still red now. "Hank..do you know what's happening?" Connor looked at him hopefully, eyes uncharacteristically lively. He didn't want CyberLife to trick him into taking over his programming. But there was no way they could have gotten what they needed to simulate Hank and Sumo. Could they? "I'm trying to analyze our location but I've got no information on it. New...Leaf? Is the name of the area. Is this another district they were constructing?" That they...magically got to after hugging. With Hank's dog.

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for the weather at 12, chance of small storms with robot son not wanting to go to android camp, dad

cyberlife
2018-06-28 03:17 pm UTC (link)

It would have been unnecessary to look for bugs or threats within their room. Connor of course had been thorough, but he understood Hank's need for double checking. He would have told him that the animals of this town had little to no electronic devices, save for televisions and the like, they were not so advanced. But it was unimportant. The compliment was important, and Connor relished in it, even if he didn't understand why he would need a golden sticker. A sarcastic implication, most likely. All the same, the contact and the words made Connor smile again, watching Hank make himself comfortable. Eyes following his movements and gestures as Connor nodded in agreement. "If there was a way here, then there is a way back. Someone will know something and we'll piece it together." Just like they did back home. He wasn't lying when he said he enjoyed working with Hank, they made a great team. All entrances had doors after all, and doors opened both ways, they'd figure it out.

Out of habit and because Connor was just tidy, he took Hank's jacket and let it hang nicely on one of the wooden anchors on the wall. After a short consideration, he decided to try and take off his own jacket, placing it on the other, eyes running over the glint of his titled uniform, and indication of what he was--or supposed to be. It odd only for a moment but definitely more comfortable. As nice as his jacket was.

"Markus?" He questioned, turning around to face Hank curiously. What did helping Markus have to do with going back home? He had a lot on his 'plate'. An analogy for being busy, he decided. Did Hank presume he was too busy for him now? "Markus was successful because he led a peaceful protest that won over public opinion and pressured the decision makers. I only freed the remaining androids from CyberLife...but I don't understand what that has to do with finding a way home."

The android folded his arms over his chest, holding his side and elbows as he thought. A mannerism not in programming. Something he did when troubled, like back at the park in the snow. "You are assuming I'm eager to get back to the other androids. But I'm not." He shook his head for emphasis. He didn't want to leave Hank. Connor was still understanding the freedom and implications of 'wants' now. He had few: be alive and free, be with his friend, find out who he was, really. "I helped him because it was the right thing to do and those androids deserved to be free. But now I don't have any other purpose or mission. I don't have any other place to be, Hank."

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temulency
2018-07-03 09:07 pm UTC (link)

"Don't start with that modesty crap, alright?" Hank issued a derisive snort. "Markus was about to have his ass handed to him on a platter. Showing up with reinforcements played a bigger part in turning things around than you're giving it credit for." President Warren's change of heart certainly helped. But Hank's years on the force put him in contact with more than a few dirty cops. Men like Gavin, whose prejudices took control over their actions.

News footage had shown that Markus and his ragtag resistance were surrounded. It was all well and good that they broke out into a special episode of Glee. Hank didn't doubt there was a soldier among them whose finger itched to take the shot in spite of orders to stand down. Neither did he doubt they could've gotten away with it. Servicemen were given a badge of heroism by default. To question it was to put your own patriotism under the microscope.

So, yeah, Markus had won over the people like so many bright revolutionaries before him. That didn't make him bulletproof. Given his natural pessimism, Hank could imagine many scenarios where violence came out on top. Connor's arrival with at least half a million friends in tow was more than enough to cool the jets of a trigger-happy hothead.

Putting up both hands in a disarming gesture, he conceded, "I can't tell you what to do anymore. All I'm saying is, you should think about rubbing elbows with andr -- with your peers. It's like when a kid goes off to college. Being on your own is scary at first, but then you smoke a blunt and set a couple of hot plates on fire by accident. Experiences like that help build character. You shouldn't pass 'em up just to sit with me and listen to my arteries harden." That was it for the day. Hank's Pez dispenser of pseudo-fatherly advice had run out.

Flopping onto the couch, he let his eyes close. Ten fingers laced over his beer gut; his feet propped on the coffee table. Hank's socks had long since ceased being white, having adopted a dingy gray color instead. His right big toe peeked out of a considerable hole. The portrait of class and sophistication, he was not. "I'll tell you something else that's going on our to-do list," he yawned. "We're getting you some clothes that don't glow in the dark. And a tattoo. Hell, a red Sharpie would suffice. Somethin' I can mark you with just in case you've got any more evil twin brothers running around. I don't have the patience for another game of Trivial Pursuit."

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cyberlife
2018-07-07 02:46 am UTC (link)

Actually, Markus could have been easily killed if he'd done the wrong thing. He and the remaining deviants, and those who were still in camps were surrounded. Connor's arrival would have merely added pressure, and possibly only continued more bloodshed, since he would not try to harm anyone either. Regardless. Connor did not want Markus' position or any position of merit amongst the androids. He would offer all the help and his resources as he could, but he was still...very much different from the rest of them. Save for Markus, who was also an RK prototype.

Feeling a little frustrated with Hank's answer, Connor might have huffed if he knew what that was, instead he merely listened with a frown, arms folded and his led light circling yellow as he analyzed it all internally. He understood Hank's analogy. But a human child who was being sent off to college already had several years of experience being alive. Even school and parental figures for several years to teaching on how to become a productive member of society. One that did not smoke or set hot plates on fire. The closest thing Connor had to all of that was his data on psychology, analysis, and his personal experiences with Hank. The closest thing he had to family. But the android didn't want to fight, and Hank was tired. So he reserved the very long winded, analytical answer he had in store.

He couldn't sigh, so he deflated on the couch beside his friend. "I can build character and also make sure that your arteries don't harden." Connor contended, looking over to what should have been an uncomfortable position, Sumo already snugly snoozing in the corner of the room. "There's a bed, you know." Just pointing that out there. In case Hank wanted to be comfortable. But Connor looked down to his white button down and realized it could be considered a bit formal. He was, unfortunately, no longer a part of the Detroit police. Maybe someday he would be allowed to be again.

"Different clothes might be...nice." He tried to be open to the idea, though the only time he wore different clothing was a disguise to fit in. Connor had no idea what he would like to wear that was not his suit jacket and tie. His face did contort some at the idea of being drawn on with a sharpie. "They don't have access to my programming or current memory anymore, but that's fair. Maybe something else other than the marker though..."

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temulency
2018-07-08 05:37 am UTC (link)

There was no good reason to resist Connor's suggestion of relocating to the bed. Nothing except for Hank's tendency to punish himself whenever possible. He wasn't stupid; he knew sleeping on the couch would leave him sore and stiff-necked. It didn't matter. He was already here. The aches and pains would motivate him to wake up that much sooner, he figured. They had a lot of ground to cover in the morning.

"A new hair do might do the trick. Piercings. Jewelry," Hank rattled off, only half serious. That's when an idea came to him. On his person were three relics of bygone eras. His high school class ring, a gold chain given by his ex-wife, and a fine Swedish timepiece. The Rolex had cost him almost four grand, but he considered it a sound investment. Back then, his future seemed brighter. There was more disposable income to throw around.

According to the dealer, the watch would only lose one second every decade. Hank was certain it would last his lifetime. And once he was gone, it looked nice enough to warrant passing on. Someday, he'd hoped his son would wear it.

Sleepily fumbling the clasp open, Hank offered it without looking at Connor. No sense getting all mushy about the gesture. They were only looking for practical means of quick identification in a pinch. It wasn't that big a deal. Ahem. "I realize you don't need help telling the time," Hank explained. "But that's what make it kinda funny. When in Rome, dress as the Romans do." Hank's version of the old adage was all wrong, but the corners of his mouth quirked into a smile regardless. "I've got my phone and that weird ass device that showed up when we got here. Don't worry about me needing it. I forget the damn thing on my nightstand half the time, anyway."

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cyberlife
2018-07-11 12:37 am UTC (link)

Ah, he was joking. Right? Connor didn't think he would like the intrusion of a piercing into his skin. Though he supposed his hair could change. The normally sleeked back synthetic hair, save for that one pesky bang had loosened up into a few. He ran his fingers through it, letting his hair part where it wanted and the bangs fall around his face. Imperfection was...better, in a way.

Connor stared in surprised when Hank offered him the watch. His watch. It looked expensive. "Hank, I can't accept--" Oh he thought he'd tell him he didn't need to keep track of time. Well, Hank was right, but the android didn't know what it was to receive a gift.

Until now. Another analogy--dress like the Roman's do. Dress like...a person. Reaching out, still unsure, Connor took the watch and placed it on his wrist. He stared at it in awe. The old, hardboiled detective may have hid in the reasoning of giving him something to distinguish him by. But it was much more than that. It was the first thing that Connor would own that would be his. And his very first gift, given to him by his only friend. It was very, very special. His fingers traced over the edges and links to the watch, a smile pulling to his face. "Thank you. I'll take good care of it." He contended to respond simply, as Hank had done enough 'explaining' as to why Connor should have the watch in the first place.

But he watched his father figure of a human smile, his own mirroring it with as much life as Connor could muster. Not wanting to keep him up any longer, he got up from the couch, patting Hank gently on the shoulder. "I hope you sleep well. I'll keep watch, you just relax." And he would. As soon as Hank would drift into a REM cycle, Connor would adjust him to lay properly against the cushions of the couch, covering him with a throw blanket so he would be comfortable and not stiff in the morning. He would then spend the rest of the night reading some of the books in the room, his hand holding the watch protectively here and there.

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