"You're free now Connor, you don't have to be their slave anymore."

The last words that Connor heard from Markus before the two parted their separate ways. The detective had never felt anything but respect for him, but despite that, his words left a taste worse than thirium in his mouth.

Free?

But what did it truly mean to be Free? To all the deviants that now lived in peace, it meant quitting their jobs, roaming the streets in regular clothes, forming families- but what was freedom to Connor?

He wondered endlessly whether he enjoyed his job, or if that was his programming talking, he wondered if he loved Hank like a father, or if it was his social relations program talking. If he was free.. why did he still feel so trapped within the mess of wires and memory cards inside the space he called his brain? Sure, he had accepted that he was deviant, but what did that mean really? He was still technically a machine, he was now just a machine that didn't feel compelled to complete his mission.

These thoughts plagued Connor's mind as he sat there, hands in his lap, eyes staring straight ahead at the desk in front of him. The chair opposite was empty, absent of the lieutenant who usually sat there, papers scattered atop of the wooden surface, empty mugs stained with coffee lining the edges.

Connor glanced up, his eyes momentarily meeting Hank's, who was sat opposite Fowler in his office. The two appeared to be engaged in a heated debate as usual, but Hanks conflicted glances in Connor's direction made him conclude the debate was concerning the detective android himself.. but why? Was he being taken off the force? Being taken back to Cyberlife? Being... deactivated?

The though made Connor wince a little, his stress levels raising to 35%, surely he was just overthinking things. The humans had made peace with the androids, Markus' peaceful protest ensured that the public remained supportive of them, it ensured that they were viewed as people rather than machines with software instabilities. Despite trying to reassure himself, the detective still felt like things were off, like deviants were a taboo subject that it were best to avoid. He fumbled in his blazer pocket, taking out his quarter coin, flipping it in the air with a clink as it landed in his other hand, liberty side up.

It was a few moments later that Hank returned to the desk opposite him and sat down, sifting through his files with a somber look on his face.

"Is everything okay, lieutenant?" Connor questioned, his brows knitted together in concern. Hank simply looked up at him, grumbled a quiet 'yes' and looked back down at his terminal, switching it on. The detective android nodded softly, concluding that perhaps Hank wasn't ready to speak about what was bothering him, and switched his own terminal on, looking through a few files. As he did this, he noticed how he had kept his back straight, and he arched it a little, leaning back in the chair in an attempt to look more natural. Despite everybody knowing he was an android, as it was advertised on his forehead in the form of a spinning blue light, he had been actively trying to blend in more and act more human. He knew that his presence as a machine, and more importantly a deviant, caused people to feel uncomfortable, and he had been trying to combat that by acting less like a computer.

"Connor," It had been almost ten minutes when Hank had decided to break the silence, looking straight at Connor with a serious glare, "do you want to keep working here?"

The android addressed looked up over his screen, expression blank, hands resting on the keys of his keyboard.

"I certainly feel it would be..." Connor paused, looking for the word, "..unfortunate to be removed from the force."

Hank blinked a few times before letting out an exhausted sigh. His eyes were flickering with some kind of emotion that Connor couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Connor.. they're thinking of taking you off the force." He said bluntly, resting his head in his hands, his words laced with regret. He looked down, as though he were not able to look Connor in the eyes, and shook his head. "I guess since androids are a bit of a sensitive subject at the moment, Fowler isn't sure if he wants one here... might make people trust us less." Hank closed his eyes, hanging his head a little. "Fuckin' humans..."

Connor frowned, looking down at his hands with a troubled expression. It didn't make much sense... if President Warren had allowed them to be treated as equals, why did being an android still feel like such a burden? His LED spun amber as he processed the information, wondering if maybe this was best for him, after all.. didn't this mean he could go out into the world and figure out who he really was? It should have been an exciting prospect, but it just made the android feel empty and without purpose. It wasn't about having a mission to complete anymore, it was about finding purpose in being a detective, but without that purpose.. could he really be anyone else?

Connor looked up, nodding curtly, his expression still troubled.

"I understand, but.." He furrowed his brows, leaning forward a little, "for now, I am still on the team, correct?"

"Far as I know, yeah." Hank replied, he was sorting the papers on his desk into a neat pile, but his eyes made it seem as though he were miles away. Connor decided not to question it, instead focusing on the files on the terminal in-front of him.

He slumped forward a little as he did this, hoping it made him appear a little more human.

---

In the dim light of Hank's car, Connor could make out the relentless pitter-patter of rain on the roof. It had been there the whole time they had been driving, almost like an ambient soundtrack for their journey, the blur of buildings and streetlights that washed over them with milky yellow light, but it only occurred to him now that he liked the sound. It was a strange feeling; liking something. Before deviancy, he only knew of completing the mission, but being alive was so much more than he could ever imagine. He found that people had favorite foods, and colors... he wondered if he had a favorite color too. Sat in this car, Hank sat next to him, he came to the conclusion that rain was his favorite sound.

The evening was dark, but warm, a light wind brushed over Connor's hair as he stepped out of the car, scrutinizing the scene before him. A bungalow that stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of an otherwise dull street. Although the same as the other houses, it was strewn with wind chimes that rattled in the evening air and banners that hung from the windows, damaged by the rain. The front lawn was overgrown with grass and weeds that laced themselves through the cracks in the pavement, reclaiming their territory, colorful gnomes and smiling dog ornaments peeking through the long blades of green. Hank wrinkled his nose in disgust at the sight, his brow furrowing.

"Jesus Christ, my eyes hurt." The lieutenant groaned, beginning to amble towards the building, Connor close behind. The android didn't mind the sight, in fact, he thought it was quite nice that the house had character. It still fascinated him that humans would decorate their things to make them feel more personal; photos on their walls, stickers on their laptops, badges on their coats- is that what it meant to be human? Connor wondered if he should have badges on his jacket too, maybe it would make him feel a little more normal.

The two reached the 'do not cross' line, nodding curtly at the policeman guarding the scene, before heading into the building, the bright light of the hallway a little disorientating. It only took a few seconds for detective Collins to come in and greet them, beginning to give them a briefing on the situation as he lead them to the bodies in the kitchen; A man and woman, the woman beheaded, the man with an axe lodged in his chest. The sight was a little unnerving, but Connor was programmed to be able to handle these things, he could handle it, right? He had never been bothered by seeing dead bodies before, so why did seeing the woman's headless body make him feel uncomfortable? It made him feel like he could almost imagine it, the weapon cutting through the flesh, the spraying of blood- not as a reconstruction like he was used to, but real and gory and horrible. For a second, it made him wish he could go back to being trapped in his own programming, but he quickly shook the thought off, remembering how horrible it felt to be a pawn in Kamski's game.

The uncomfortable feeling tugged at him in the back of his mind, but he persisted, walking over to the woman's body at first, inspecting the headless neck. Being closer to it made the feeling stronger, but his determination for the case over-powered it, and he noticed how clean the cut was, no damage to the rest of the skin as if the head had been cut clean off without any struggle. With his LED swirling in his temple with a blinking cyan light, he glanced back over to the man's body, figuring she must've been beheaded with the axe he had been struck with.

"You think he killed her and then killed himself?" Hank's voice came from behind Connor, stood above him as the android crouched down beside the body.

"I don't know.." Connor replied, the end of his words heightening with an upturned octave. "I believe lodging an axe in your own chest would be difficult. But I doubt she killed him and then axed her own head off... there must have been a third party involved."

Hank nodded, wandering off to continue investigating, his footsteps echoing around the small kitchen. Connor remained by the headless body, swiping two fingers over the pool of crimson around its neck and tasting it, his LED flashing.

Name: Naima Fischer, Blood sample: 3 hours

Connor stood up from his place, promptly wiping his fingers on his jeans as he heard Hank's voice from a few rooms away.

"Connor! C'mere!"

"Coming lieutenant!" The android shouted back, making his way over to hank, his quarter coin held loosely between his fingers. Advancing down the hallway, he noted how dull it looked compared to the outside of the house. Grey, peeling wallpaper that moved like wagging fingers in the light wind that blew in from the window, an almost empty dresser with a single candle placed atop, Lieutenant Anderson stood at the end of the hallway, pointing at a few droplets of cobalt blue. They were easy to miss if seen with the naked eye, but it was unmistakably thirium.

"Think I found your third party."