iRobot
—The new RK900 has taken the place of his predecessor, partner to the unwilling Lieutenant Anderson, but he cannot replace what once was, can he?—
A/N: Loosely based off the song iRobot by Jon Bellion
Warnings: swearing, blood, kinda hella angsty
I was a human // breathing and thinking // eating and drinking // philosophizing
You hold tightly to Connor’s hand as you nearly run down the sidewalk. He chuckles at your eagerness, a smile plastered on his face. He watches your hair dance in the breeze, the fading sunlight making you glow.
“There it is!” Your eyes light up at the sight of the ferris wheel. “C’mon!”
The blinking and swirling of neon lights dance along the skyline, but all he can see is your smile; the way your eyes shine with excitement hold him in a trance. He can’t help but share your joy.
For a moment, something catches your attention. You reach into the crowd, your hand returning with a ring of flowers. You look to Connor. Miraculously, your smile widens as you step closer, placing the flowers on his head.
“Perfect,” you murmur over the rumble of people.
Connor smiles, pressing his lips to yours. The rush of the festival seems to slow as your hands wrap around his neck, holding him close. His fingertips brush your face and you smile into the kiss. You part, but his forehead rests on yours. His thumbs trace your cheekbones.
“Perfect, indeed,” he says lowly.
“C’mon.” Your cheeks turn warm under his fingers. “You haven’t even seen the best part.”
I was a human // before you killed me // and ripped my heart out // I knew what love was
“Connor!” Your throat is tight, choking his name to a hoarse cry. You cup his face, slowly bring his head up, forcing him to look at you. Tears rest on his lashes, threatening to fall and drown you both. “You gotta get up, Connor. You gotta-”
“Y/N,” he says weakly, his voice sounding as if it were played through an old speaker. “I’m sorry.”
You suck in a breath, shaking your head. “Connor, no-”
“I shouldn’t have done this to you.” His hand moves through your hair. You lean into the touch, his skin cold against your own. “I should’ve known how this was going to end.”
“Please don't go,” you beg “I need you.”
The tear falls. Silently, he brings you close, wrapping his arms around you. His fingers dig into your back, but you don't care. You nestle your head in his neck.
“I love you,” he says into your shirt, “I always have.”
You wind your fingers in his hair, unable to stop the ugly sob that escapes you. His body goes rigid. Jumping, you cup his face again, but his eyes remain closed. The only movement is the tear sliding down his cheek, the last of his deviancy falling away.
Now when they ask me // I just reply slow // and sound like an iPhone // I do not know love // I am a robot
There’s thirium on it’s jacket. It’s LED swirls yellow before quickly flicking back to it’s usual blue. It’s the closest thing to disheveled you’ll ever see it. Hank snatches his gun back.
Moving forward, you holster your own weapon, blue snow crunching under your shoes. The lieutenant steps next to you, a shuddering breath fogging in the winter air.
“Model WR 395-177-528 has been decommissioned,” the android says flatly.
“Died.” Your nose twitches, unable to look away from the blonde hair sprawled out in the snow. “She died.”
If it needed to breathe, a dramatic sigh would pass the android’s lips. It shakes it’s head. “It is a machine, sergeant. It could not have died.”
“No,” you snap. You spin on your heel, taking three quick steps towards the android. You jab it, your finger digging into the glowing RK900. “You are a machine. She,” you point to the body behind you, “was alive.”
“That,” it says, nostrils flaring, “is impossible, ser-”
“Fuck, impossible!” You’re yelling now, but who gives a damn. “Twenty years ago, androids were thought to be impossible! Now look at us!”
Hank places a hand on your shoulder. “Kid-”
“No!” You glare at the android, seeing a cold metallic gray stare back at you. “You don’t feel jack shit. Hell! Do you even know why you’re hunting deviants?!”
“My programming-”
“Exactly,” you mutter. You step closer, standing nearly toe to toe with it. “You’re just a soldier following orders. You don't feel joy, or sadness, or love. You’re nothing.”
It stands a little straighter. “Of course I don’t know love,” he says darkly, “I am a machine.”
I used to know love // cause I had a fire // passion and desire // now all I require // are circuits and wires
It knocks once, twice, three times before the door is opened. Your hair is barely contained in a loose bun, the faded DPD sweatpants sitting low on your hips. Your already bitter facial expression sours at the sight of the android.
“Sergeant Y/L/N,” it says, tipping it’s head in greeting, “there’s been a report of a deviant on the southeast side of town.”
Your arms cross over your chest, a hip popping in annoyance. “And?”
“We need to investigate it.” It looks perplexed by your response. Not like he knows what that feels like. “Lieutenant Anderson was too inebriated to accompany us.”
“No doubt,” you murmur, something sad tinting your voice. You straighten. “Gimme ten minutes.”
“Time is of the upmost importance, sergeant,” it says, stepping into your apartment. You shut the door behind it.
“Make it twenty,” you say, walking past it.
“But sergeant-”
Flipping it off over your shoulder, it falls silent, listening as you slam a door. Somewhere in it’s system, a timer for twenty minutes begins, the seconds ticking by before it’s eyes.
Looking around, it scans your apartment, taking note of the many books lining the shelves. It walks aimlessly around.
Photos of family and colleagues are mounted on the wall. Names pop up, but the android ignores them. A photo of you, Lieutenant Anderson, and the older man’s dog Sumo has it’s lips twitching.
You’re sitting on the floor, hugging Sumo as you smile widely at the camera. Hank sits on the couch behind you, one hand on the dogs head, the other on your shoulder. He’s wearing a smile that the android has never seen personally.
“To family,” it reads quietly, recognizing Hank’s messy scrawl on the bottom of the frame.
It’s biocomponents feel suddenly heavy in it’s chest. A run of his diagnostic program comes back with no abnormalities, but the tightness doesn’t leave. Only when it looks to a different photo does his system resume its normal function. Even then, the ghost of the strangeness follows closely. But ghosts aren’t real.
It’s eyes land on a square frame. Your fingerprints are clustered on the bottom right corner, as if you touch it ever time you pass. Pressed against the glass is a flower crown. Names of the flowers pop up - Baby’s Breath, Amaranthus, and Zinnia - all of which has wilted and died. Yet the color, now faded and bleached by sunlight, still tints the petals.
“It’s beautiful isn't it?” It’s a whisper against the wind, admiration evident in your voice. “It’s like you can see all of Detroit from up here.”
It’s untrue, but the way she says it makes me smile. “Yeah,” I say, pulling her against me in the small seat. “It is beautiful.”
She smiles up at me, her fingers winding with my own. I lean towards her, kissing her gently. Once I might’ve seen the chemical compounds, but now all I taste is the love resting on her lips.
“Thank you,” she murmurs “for everything.”
Pulling away, I watch a dozen different things flicker across her face. How did she manage to be so beautiful so high above the ground? Was it the lights from the ferris wheel making her glow in hues of blue and purple?
She fixes the flowers placed on my hair. “I suppose you would like this back now.”
“Nah,” she hums. She sweeps away the few strands of hair from my forehead. “You need it more than I do.”
“Why’s that?” I lean into her touch, smiling at her antics.
She laughs quietly and I wish to remember the sound forever. “Because all hail the king.”
“Hey!” You shout loudly, causing the android to jump. Your brows furrow, your tone a little softer. “You comin’?”
“Yes,” it mutters. It clears it’s throat, or at least pretends to as he nods. “Yes of course.”
You eye him suspiciously before leaving your apartment, the door slowly closing. The android drags its eyes back to the flower crown mounted in front of it. It can still feel your lips, the warmth of the air that night, the love. Something in it’s system freezes at the word.
Ghosts, he thinks, are definitely real.
I am a robot // thoughtless and empty // don't know who sent me // don't know who made me // electric robot // everything's gray now
“You know what the fuck happened to Bolts over there?” Hank points his thumb over his shoulder towards the android sitting stiffly at your desk. “’S like his system froze or something.”You snort. “Think he needs an update?”“Hell if I know,” Hank grumbles, pouring another cup of coffee. “It’s annoying as fuck, I know that.” Your lips twitch but your attention has shifted to the RK900. More specifically, how it’s LED swirls a continuous yellow as it stares off into space. Pair that with the conflicted expression it’s wearing and you have to admit you’re concerned.
“I’ll be right back,” you murmur to Hank. His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t say anything as you walk across the bullpen.
You move slow towards the android, as if it could suddenly turn and bite you. Sitting on the corner of your desk, one foot barley touches the ground while the other swings idly.
“You okay?”
It jumps at your voice. When did you sit down? Was something wrong with his sensors?
“I-“ What does he say? That he was fine, just trying to figure out what the hell was going on with him? Or does he give into his programming and lie? He considers it, but then there’s that weight in his chest again and he knows he couldn’t do that to you.
“I don’t know,” it says eventually.
Your brows knit together, but it’s not out of annoyance. Concern. That’s what that look in your eye is.
Your gaze falls to the coffee in your hands, as if you’ll find answers hidden in its depths.
He wants to say something. He can feel the words at the back of his throat, scrambling themselves on his tongue, and he wants nothing more than to spit them out. But his programming advises otherwise.
He sneaks a glance at you, suddenly aware of all the things he never knew before.
How you think of Hank as a father. All the things you love to do and see. The way your nose scrunches just slightly when you lie.
“I’m sorry,” it blurts.
Your eyes snap up. “What?”
There’s no bitterness in your voice, but the android still shuffles in it’s chair, unsure of where to look. Your attention doesn’t stray and he knows he has to speak now.
“I understand my presence causes you discomfort.” You retract slightly, lips parting for a tiny puff of air to escape. “But know that I didn’t ask to look like him.”
You want to leave, but something keeps you glued to the desk. You want to respond but you can’t. What could you say?
“Aside from minute changes,” it says softly, “CyberLife wanted a familiar interface.”
Your eyes meet and for the first time you see something in them. Something beyond programming.
“I know I cannot replace him,” he admits, “but-“
His words have jammed. His jaw twitches, hoping to clear way for his thoughts, but it’s not enough.
You lean forward, coffee long forgotten next to you as you reach to touch his shoulder. “But what?”
A desperation you’ve never heard weighs heavy on his words. “I don’t want to be hated anymore.”
Electric robot // everything’s gray now // numb to the pain now //
Snow sweeps through the worn and splintered walls, swirling at your feet in tiny storms of wind and ice. The metal of your gun clings to your palm. The distant rumble of the train sounds like frozen thunder.
A floorboard groans under your weight. Biting the inside of your lip, you glance down, silently daring another board to make a noise. Looking up, you watch a tattered bed sheet tremble in the doorway it’s pinned to. You take a shaky breath and move the faded green fabric aside.
A figure crouches in the far corner, barley illuminated by the pale moonlight shining through the hole in the roof. You force your hands to stop their shaking.
“Hands up! DPD!”
It jumps to it’s feet, hands braced against the wall. It’s cornered and it knows it. Crossing one foot over the other, your gun remains aimed at its chest as you step closer.
“Hands up!” Your voice echoes in the old barn. Before another move can be made, a pair of hands reach from the darkness.
They’re connected to another android; a man with his right eye missing, leaving behind a faint red glow in the socket.
Twisting your arm harshly, you’re forced to drop your weapon, snarling through gritted teeth. His elbow meets your nose and your head whips back. You can taste blood.
He lifts his leg to kick you, but before he makes contact, you catch his ankle. He falls to the ground in a puff of snow. You’re too slow to stop the glass shard from being lodged in your thigh.
A scream tears itself from your throat as your knees buckle. Hands wrapping around your leg, you feel the blood soaking your jeans, staining the snow a bright red. With blurry vision, you watch the deviants duck out a back door. A wave of nausea washes over you as you pull the glass from the muscle. The RK900 arrives in time to watch you drop the shard, your hands shaking beyond control.
He drops to his knees before you, pressing down on your wound. He winces when you cry out. He’s acutely aware of your vitals flashing in front of him.
“It’s okay,” he says shakily, “you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”
Who was he convincing? You? Or himself? He couldn’t let you die. Not like this. Not now.
“I-“ you suck in a sharp breath “I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t have to listen closely to hear how much pain you’re in. Shaking his head, he presses down harder. He hates the feeling of your blood seeping between his fingers. Your fingers touch his cheek, and when his eyes snap to yours, he nearly breaks.
“You’re n-not a machine,” you croak. His thirium pump stutters in his chest. “You- you haven’t been f-for awhile now.”
You laugh, but it’s weak and strained, a dribble of your blood touching the corner of your mouth. When had you become so pale?
“But I was still an asshole to you.” Tears rest on your lashes, slipping down your cheeks uninvited. Your voice is airy, “And for that I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head again. “Y/N, don’t-“ Was he crying? “It’s not- you-“
“Finish what Connor started,” you murmur, fighting to keep your eyes open. “Sh-show them-“ your body slumps “Show them you’re alive.”
He can’t move. Not as he watches your heart stop. Not as Hank runs in, out of breath and panicked. Not as every line of code cracks beneath the grief. Not as he reads mission failed.
Inside was ocean // of soul and emotion // then you cut me open // now all that I know is
The crunch of snow has Hank turning, smiling as he does so. The android next to him realizes the older man is no longer listening, and turns as well. His lips pull into a wide smile as you walk towards them.
“You forget to invite me or something?” Your laugh is muffled by him bringing you into a hug, your face pressed into his shoulder. You relax in his arms, placing a hand on the back of his head. “I’m not that easy to get rid of.”
He chuckles against your scarf, finally letting you go. “I had every intention of seeing you afterwards.”
“Well there ain’t no time like the present,” you tease, earning an eye roll from Hank, the smile still plastered on his face. “It is kinda crazy though.”
“What is?” The man in front of you tilts his head, watching your eyes drift to the large crowd of deviants standing in the square.
You bring your gaze back to him. “I got to watch you help lead your people to freedom,” you murmur, “all from the comfort of my physical therapy sessions.”
The two men laugh, but your focus has shifted to Markus as he speaks. There’s passion in his voice; one that you can hear from the back of the crowd. He takes the hand of the girl next to him — North, if you remember right — holding them high above their heads. The crowd cheers and you feel it thrum through you.
“He would’ve like loved this,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the people. Eyes still moving about the square, you miss the look Hank and the RK900 share.
Hank steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. “He does.”
Your brows furrow, finally tearing your gaze back to the men. Hank’s eyes shine as he smiles, looking down the empty road.
Following his line of sight, you realize it’s not empty. Someone is walking towards you. But there’s no way—
The snow clears and the air leaves your lungs. Tears spring to your eyes. Scrambling away from the two, you nearly lose your footing as you break into a run.
“Connor!”
You jump into his arms, nearly knocking him over as you wrap him in a desperate hug. He buries his face in your neck, a tremor wracking his body.
“But-“ you pull away, hands running through his hair “But CyberLife- they said-“
He shakes his head. “They didn’t.” You cup his face and he presses his face into your palm; his own hands move to your wrists, a silent plea to keep them there. “They didn’t do anything. I’m okay. I-I thought they did something to you-“
“They took you away,” you cry brokenly. His shouldered slump, your foreheads touching. “That’s what they did to me.”
His tears fall onto your cheek. “I’m home now.”
His arms tighten around you, his lips moving to press a kiss in the crook of your neck.
There’s a snort, a muffled laugh, and then, “What am I? Chopped liver?”
You laugh weakly into Connor’s jacket. He lifts his head, looking up at Hank though his arms haven’t moved yet.
“I see how it is,” the older man says, feigning hurt. “You get yourself a pretty girl and I’m nothin’.”
You roll your eyes, a blush creeping into your cheeks. Connor slowly pulls away, his fingers brushing your arm as if he doesn’t want to part. Hank’s smile widens as he pulls Connor to him, clapping on him on the back.
“It’s good to have you back, son,” he murmurs.
With tears eyes, you step next to the man you once called a machine. “It was you, wasn’t it?” His eyes travel to your face, head tipping slightly left. You look at him. “You brought him back.”
His smile softens, the snow resting on his lashes making his eyes seem warm. “I told you,” he murmurs, “I could never replace him. I figured-“ he shrugs, looking to the crowd of deviants all dancing and cheering. “I figured I’d do one better.”
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his into a tight hug. His tenses before slowly hugging you back, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
He smiles over your shoulder. “All hail the king.”
I am alive
Want to join the revolution? Send me a message!
Current Deviants:
@teigra @emwara123 @divadonadance1 @onceuponagleepottermindlock @suicidal-crazy-lions @watchoutforfrostbite @unlikelybreadtimemachine @maddiemourns @w-van-derlust @internalplight @layinglonely @captain-winter-wolf-aehs @yallgotkik
(If something went screwy in your programming, and your tag didn’t work, let me know!)
