𝘀𝗼𝗳𝘁𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 ⸺ ( connor )
𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟬𝟭︱𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝟢𝟤︱𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝟢𝟥︱𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝟢𝟦︱𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝟢𝟧
You are a brilliant and highly respected lawyer. Deeply fascinated about technology and especially by androids. Convinced that they are developing genuine emotional intelligence, you have made it your mission to defend those who are victims of violence or abuse, in order to give them a voice and be the one that will represent them at all cost. Connor, the android detective, does not share your opinion. Lawyers are known for their stubbornness and their need to have the ultimate say. You are determined to prove to him, by any means necessary, that you are right.
𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾!𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 𝟣.𝟩𝗄
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗂𝗇𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 (𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌.𝖺)
𝗮/𝗻: 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾'𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍 (𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗂𝖽𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌). 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 !
⋆ ---––——––--- ⋆
The heavy doors of the courtroom close behind you with a dull echo. The entire morning was spent defending a man who loved his bottle of whiskey more than his own family, and cases like this always leave you with a bitter kind of mental exhaustion. It wasn’t a battle you wanted to fight. You did lose the case, yes, but this defeat feels nothing like a failure. The man was sentenced to several months in prison and ordered to pay damages to his wife. More importantly, he is now forbidden from approaching her or their son until further notice.
In moments like these, nothing would be more comforting than a quiet afternoon: a book resting on your knees, your cat curled up against you and a steaming cup of tea held between your hands. Instead, the only comfort you’re granted is the familiar seat of your car, which you’ve just slipped into.
📞 Incoming call: Lt. Anderson.
A weary sigh escapes your lips. Clearly, the day isn’t done with you yet, and with every passing second, the pleasant vision of that well-earned couch break drifts further out of reach.
— Lieutenant Anderson. What a pleasant surprise.
— Save it. I know you don’t mean a fucking word of it.
— Fair enough. What can I do for you?
— We picked up an android. It claims it was abused by its owner. Thought you might want to see it for yourself.
— I’m on my way.
The engine comes to life at once, and the city of Detroit blurs past your windshield as you head toward the precinct.
There are still no official laws regulating android rights. Yet you have never doubted that they are far more than mere machines. For months, you have been taking advantage of your professional connections, pushing against institutional walls, multiplying efforts to make things change, to make them evolve. Between hearings, between case files, you devote your free time to those who have no voice at all: androids destroyed without trial, silenced without a second thought. Their ability to feel emotions is no longer a hypothesis to you, but a certainty and your daily fight.
One pattern stands out among those who are arrested: only androids who claim to have suffered an emotional shock turn against their owners. Defending the most vulnerable against the abuses of the powerful has always been your guiding principle, the very reason you chose this profession. It is also the result of your meticulous, well-regarded work that has earned you certain privileges like attending arrests, observing interrogations or accessing case files for analysis. You still can’t officially defend them in court, but you can at least slow their biased destruction and, sometimes, offer them a second chance with the right arguments.
⸻
Behind the tinted glass of the interrogation room, an android sits with restraints clasped around his synthetic wrists. His mental agitation is almost tangible, like a low vibration pressing against the glass. The tension is unmistakable. Lieutenant Anderson’s methods —and those of his partner, Connor— are not known for their gentleness, but their effectiveness is undeniable.
Connor. A prototype android detective sent by Cyberlife to assist law enforcement, compensate for staff shortages, and test their most advanced models along the way. He embodies everything an investigator should be: methodical, precise, relentlessly rational. Perhaps too much so. He doesn’t believe for a second that androids can feel emotions. Pretty ironic, considering he is one himself.
And yet, despite his denials, you’ve noticed flaws in him. Tiny, almost imperceptible, but undeniably real. Compliments throw him off balance. Compassion slows him down. Empathy seems to trigger a brief disturbance, like a minor short circuit. You even tested him once, by asking him out. The reaction was so abrupt you could have sworn he initiated a full system diagnostic within seconds. If androids are incapable of emotions, as he claims, how does one explain such a disruption?
Arms crossed, mind alert, you take in every detail: the silences, the glances, the micro-reactions. The android being interrogated still hasn’t spoken. A domestic model, arrested after assaulting his owner. She claims she was calmly watering the plants in her garden when the machine “malfunctioned”. The neighbors, alarmed by the scene, immediately called the police.
And you watch. As always. Waiting for the moment when the truth finally decides to surface.
Connor speaks, true to form, with that perfectly calibrated mechanical precision that defines him. His voice is steady, measured, almost too smooth. He tries to position himself on the android’s side, promising him the world, bordering on plain old lies, meeting his gaze directly in the hope of earning his trust and getting him to talk. Your attention, however, is drawn elsewhere: the claw-like marks scoring the suspect’s forearms.
— I want the human to leave.
The defendant’s voice finally breaks the silence. Anderson shoots Connor a brief, incredulous look before exiting the room, muttering a vague “Yeah, whatever.” Seconds later, he reappears on the other side of the glass. He nods at you, then drops heavily into a chair.
— An hour without a word, and the only thing it says is “I want the human to leave.”
— If he’s been traumatized, it makes sense he’d only trust androids
— I already regret calling you.
— Nice to see you too.
A faintly mocking smile tugs at your lips as your gaze returns to the interrogation room. The two androids are alone now.
Connor takes a seat, adopting a more neutral posture, almost human. His approach surprises you.
— When you were arrested, you stated that your owner mistreated you. Can you tell me more about that?
The android slowly lifts his head toward him. A fragile spark flickers in his pupils. He suddenly looks on the verge of tears. When he speaks again, hope trembles in his voice.
— So… you believe me?
— Tell me.
That’s all it takes. Silent as the grave until now, the android begins speaking nonstop, as if a barrier has finally broken. Words pour out, rushed, liberating. He recounts months of degradation: humiliating orders, tasks forced upon him outside his original programming, unwanted sexual advances. And when he finally began to express refusal, the violence followed. First slaps. Then worse. Mutilation, the marks on his forearms bear witness to his suffering.
To be completely honest, you had never heard anything so horrific come from the mouth of a domestic android, and judging by Connor’s expression, neither had he.
The android continues, unloading horrors so extreme they almost feel unreal. Too unreal to be true, one might think. Yet you’ve handled enough victim case files to know that reality often surpasses fiction. Nothing he says feels fabricated, not even coming from a simple android. And if humans are capable of inflicting such atrocities upon one another, why wouldn’t they do the same to a machine they consider devoid of reason and stripped of all rights?
Your eyebrows furrow despite yourself. A quiet anger rises within you, laced with disbelief. How can any of this still be allowed to happen? In this precise moment, more than ever, you know why you’re here.
And why you refuse to look away.
⸻
— You’ve got to be kidding me!
— I’m perfectly serious.
The android had been held in a cell for several days now, trapped in a complete administrative limbo. No one truly seemed to know what to do with him. As for you, your workload had been so overwhelming that finding a viable arrangement had proven nearly impossible. The case file had been examined from every angle, taken apart and reassembled over and over again, yet no decision had ever been made regarding the android —you would later learn his name was Julian— and now, the news hits you with icy brutality: there will be no decision to make after all.
Cyberlife took over. The unit was recalled. Then destroyed.
More than ever, you had placed your hopes in this case. The most alarming one you had handled so far. The strongest. The one you were convinced would finally tip the scales. That hope had just been crushed by Connor’s hands.
— I specifically asked that he be kept in custody until I could see a judge.
— And that’s exactly what we did. But the holding cells are full and we can’t keep defective android models indefinitely.
— They are not defective, Connor.
— Of course they are. Otherwise, they wouldn’t attack their owners and would simply comply with their orders.
His tone, as neutral as ever, clashes sharply with yours: tense, defensive, threaded with a fury you struggle to contain. The precinct is nearly empty at this hour. A handful of officers linger, caught between overtime and the start of the night shift. Judging by the sidelong glances, your exchange seems to interest them far more than their screens.
Connor remains unshaken. Precise. Steady. Running like clockwork.
— Why do you refuse to face reality? you snap. We’re talking about androids who only turn on their owners after they’ve been abused. Only then. How do you explain that?
— A software malfunction. A faulty diagnostic. A technical failure. He pauses. Cyberlife is investigating. We’ll have answers soon. And I promise you, once we do, I’ll let you know.
In that precise moment, you don’t know what’s stopping you from slapping him. Maybe your professional conscience. Maybe the presence —however minimal— of an audience. Connor is stubborn. And so are you. Your exchanges have always been tense, especially when android cases are involved. Connor categorically rejects the idea that androids could be developing self-awareness. He claims to be living proof of the opposite. He, and all those who continue to perform their duties obediently, without deviation.
To the police, violent androids are nothing more than a marginal anomaly. A defective minority to be discarded so they can focus on what truly matters: humans.
Anger burns in your chest. Without another word, you turn on your heel, leaving Connor to sink back into his work as if nothing had happened.
But for you, something has just broken. And this time, waiting is no longer an option. It’s time to act.
⋆ ---––——––--- ⋆
↳ 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝟢𝟤︱𝐝𝐛𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭︱𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
