Cyberlife had been reluctant to produce replacement parts for existing androids, at least not without a hefty price tag, only pressured into doing so as it was necessary to save android lives. They had downright refused to release whatever androids they had left and turn over the means of production.

Admittedly, the last notion had frightened most people. If the androids could mass produce themselves, what was stopping them from building a massive army capable of wiping out all of humanity?

Androids truly just wanted a small increase in numbers, for safety, and to develop communities of their own. Some wanted families, the equivalent of children. Most just didn't want to leave the ability to create androids in the hands of Cyberlife.

The first step was simpler, getting Cyberlife to release whatever androids remaining in their possession, deviant or not. Those sitting in their warehouses and essentially completed on their assembly lines. An android had taken the case to Supreme Court, after a distributor had kept him in the back room of a store for months. He wasn't being sold or made to do labor, and hadn't deviated until someone broke in and freed him, so the distributor argued it hadn't been illegal to keep him there. The android begged to differ, and the case would soon determine if Cyberlife would have to release whatever androids they had left.

In that time, the public image of androids was especially important. Markus and the other had become leaders of androids as a whole since androids were now free to live where they pleased and New Jericho was more of a symbolic headquarters, a place for androids in need and important meetings. They'd been campaigning and performing speeches and giving interviews. Demonstrating peacefully, all to bolster support for their cause. They couldn't directly influence a case of this nature, but they could sway public opinion and therefore political opinion, and that was something.

Hank and Connor had been busier than ever with cases, all the buzz led to a certain amount of public unrest and an uptick in crimes against androids. Connor had wanted to be more help to the cause, but Markus reassured him that the work he was doing with the DPD was more than enough.

Connor had been working hard, the chief had even hinted at promotion in his future, especially since the attitudes of his fellow officers had shifted in his favor. Some still despised him, such as Gavin Reed, but they were forced to merely hate him from a distance, as he had friends to watch his back now.

They'd been working a late night, and it was dark out while Hank and Connor were still reviewing files at the station.

"You should go home Hank, Sumo needs to be walked." Connor piped up. Hank grunted his agreement, stood, and stretched.

"You coming?" He asked, and Connor shook his head.

"I'm nearly done here, I'll be home within the hour." He explained.

"Alright, but if you're gonna be out late I'm gonna eat shit for dinner, you know that right?" Hank teased. Connor looked up at him in displeasure.

"I will pick something up on my way home." He stated as an alternative.

"Burgers?" Hank suggested hopefully. Connor turned his chair to face him.

"How about vegetable stir fry." Connor countered. Hank huffed and frowned in disappointment. Connor held his ground for a moment before sighing and offering a compromise. "How about take out vegetable stir fry, from that hibachi place you like?"

"Good enough for me, see you in an hour." Hank replied cheerfully, before walking out of the station. His posture suggested exhaustion, but he whistled as he left.

Connor smiled to himself and got to work finishing up his examination of the files.

Once he was done, twenty minutes later, he texted Hank to let him know he was heading home before taking his jacket and exiting the station. He called a taxi and pre-ordered the stir fry, requesting extra vegetables even though he knew Hank wouldn't like it.

When he arrived, the food wasn't quite ready, so he decided to head down the street a ways and pick up some milk from the nearby gas station. He made it halfway there when he registered movement down the alley on his right. There was a quiet sound, the sensation of something lodging in his neck, then his memory cut out.

It was similar to running diagnostics, in the sense that he was not aware of the world for a short period of time, but different in that he was not given system updates and there was no information to greet him when he returned to awareness.

All that he could see was a wall of alerts and warnings in his vision, informing him of his current state. His legs had both been removed below the knee, and both his arms below the elbow. His body was unharmed, but disassembled to an extent that he was utterly useless. His clothes had also been taken, and his skin deactivated involuntarily.

His system alerted him that his memories were being accessed, and he knew full well what that meant, even before the figure entered his vision. It was another Connor model, identical to him in every way, wearing his clothes and holding his takeout in one hand.

Connor made to speak, only to discover that his voice box had been removed. He could not speak, could not struggle or make a phone call, he was at the mercy of his attacker.

The other Conner approached him and checked the device that was attached to Connor's head, it was what was reading his memories and transferring them to the other Connor. He tried to mouth something to the android, beg it for help, convince it to deviate, but it paid him no mind.

Connor checked the clock, he'd been gone for just over an hour, it was enough that he hoped Hank would worry and come to his aid.

Almost as if in answer to his thoughts, he received a phone call, the other Connor answered.

It wasn't Hank.

"Yes, it's working." The android said to the person on the other line. Connor couldn't listen in on the other side of the conversation.

"It has a meeting with the leader in three days to discuss possible courses of action if the Supreme Court does not rule in their favor. All important figures should be present."

Connor struggled against the cord that was binding him to a pole, the other android was talking about a meeting he was going to have with Markus and the others. Whatever the other Connor was planning, whatever Cyberlife was planning, it wouldn't be good. It also stung somewhat to be referred to as an "it" again.

"No, there were no problems, the download will be complete in thirty-two minutes."

Connor felt a tiny bit of hope, thirty minutes was more than enough time for Hank to become suspicious and come looking for him.

Another call came through, and the other Connor put Cyberlife on hold to answer.

This time, Connor could hear.

"Connor! Where the hell are you? You said you'd be back in an hour." Hank grumbled from the other end of the line. There was an edge of concern to his voice, and Connor began desperately opening and closing his mouth, though he knew it would produce no sound. He thrashed against the rope, trying to make noise of any kind. The other Connor looked at him dispassionately.

"Sorry Hank, I got distracted at the station, I'll arrive at the house shortly." He replied, there was a pause on the other end.

"…Alright, well, hurry, I'm hungry." Hank stated after a moment.

"Of course, I'm on my way." The other Connor said, and hung up.

It glanced at Connor coldly, before replying to Cyberlife once again.

"Lieutenant Hank Anderson expects it at his residence, I'll need to go there in order not to arouse suspicion."

A pause.

"It's not an issue, I'll simply bring it with me until the download completes." The android stated and began undoing his bonds.

"Understood." He said, and hung up the call, untying Connor fully and carrying him out of the empty, dim building they had been in.

The other Connor had a company issued vehicle, and easily deposited Connor in the trunk despite how he struggled. He could sense the motion of the vehicle and began searching desperately for a way out.

After a time, he located a crowbar whose back end was roughly the right shape and size that he could jam it into his arm socket if he could find leverage. He determined that if he positioned himself in a certain manner, the momentum of the car stopping would push him against it enough to connect it as a kind of makeshift limb.

Once he was in position, the car came to a halt, but not at a light, it was clear they had arrived at their destination. It was enough, and the crowbar was pressed into his arm. The plastic groaned at the improper intrusion, but it held.

Connor heard the door open and shut, then footsteps. They'd likely parked some distance away, as Connor didn't own a car, but it wasn't so far as Connor could hear Hank's distant voice shouting and a door being slammed shut.

As quickly as he could, Connor set to work prying the trunk open. The timer in his vision alerting him that he had 12 minutes left before his memories were completely transferred, and additionally, before his mind was wiped and Cyberlife would be able to resume complete control. The device on his head was doing far more than copying his memories.

With all his strength, Connor braced himself in the trunk, using the crowbar to free himself. It required a contortion that was nearly damaging to his shoulder joint, but the trunk opened with a pop.

9 minutes remained.

He pulled himself out of the trunk with the hooked end of the crowbar, falling hard onto the asphalt. He began using it to claw his way along the sidewalk, lodging it in the cracks in the cement and pulling himself forward with only the strength of his shoulder.

He wasn't able to feel pain, but he could register how his joint strained at the effort, how the plastic was beginning to split around the foreign metal object he was using as an arm. He was aware that without his synthetic skin, his surface was getting scratched up from the rough ground, including the side of his face. He was alerted to slight thirium loss from the stump of his left leg, where he'd been scraping it against the ground for better leverage.

Finally, he came to the front door.

4 minutes remained.

He heard voices within, he didn't have time to decipher the content or character of the conversation. Instead, he utilized the crowbar to pry the door open, which was slightly easier given that it was unlocked, Hank only kept the door unlocked if he thought he might need to make a quick getaway, he didn't even do it if Connor was taking Sumo for a walk.

It swung open and slammed against the inside wall, and Connor quickly dragged himself inside.

"The hell—" Hank began to say, but shouted in fear and surprise when he saw Connor on the floor.

Connor didn't look like himself, he was reduced to a mere torso, no identifying skin, only white plastic riddled with thirium-blue scrapes. He was utterly quiet but for the sounds he made pulling himself across the floor by a crowbar lodged in his arm.

"What the fuck is that!?" Hank shouted, stumbling back, and the other Connor came into sight. Connor knew the other Connor recognized him, but it didn't show on his face, nothing showed on his face.

"Some kind of android, it seems someone tried to decommission it." The other Connor said coldly.

"Jesus Christ, I'm calling the station." Hank said, moving away.

"No need Lieutenant, this android is not alive. My analysis shows that it's mental processes have already shut down, it's merely a husk carrying out basic functions without understanding why." The other Connor explained.

"What, like a zombie?" Hank asked.

"Precisely, it can't be repaired, and no information can be gained from it. I've determined that it's from a retired android dump, we should destroy it before it does any further damage." The other Connor spoke, calmly.

Connor began to panic as the other Connor moved to the living room, likely to retrieve something with which to destroy him. He moved forward again, his mouth gaping, desperately trying to send any kind of message to Hank, who was only staring at him with a mixture of horror and pity.

Connor could suddenly feel a wetness on his cheeks. He was crying. He didn't want to die, he didn't want this to be the last time he ever saw Hank, or Markus or his other friends. He wanted to continue to make Hank smile, every possible chance he got for every day that he could. No matter what it took, whether it be through ridiculous random acts of deviancy, simple jokes, or constant nagging.

Connor would give anything, anything to at least see Hank smile one more time. He had known, from the moment they had reunited at the Chicken Feed stand, that he would face any challenge to his freedom to pull it from the sadness within his friend, that smile was worth it.

There was no happiness Connor had come to know that compared to being Hank's family.

Hank watched the other Connor, carefully, and Connor recognized the suspicion in his gaze. He'd been on the receiving end of it plenty of times. Connor latched onto that and began mouthing at Hank.

"Hank, it's me, it's Connor, help." It was a silent plea, but Hank's eyes met his, and maybe he saw the tears and the desperation, or recognized something within them, but he slowly backed into the kitchen and retrieved a pistol from on top of the fridge.

"Lieutenant, I cannot locate my firearm. Do you know where it is?" The other Connor called, re-entering the room.

"Yep." Hank replied, raising the gun to point it at the impersonating android.

"Lieutenant, what are you doing?" The other Connor asked.

"Hell if I know." Hank replied, stepping closer to the real Connor on the floor, and looking into his face.

"Lieutenant Anderson, I don't—"

"Since when have you called me 'Lieutenant Anderson' in our home?" Hank asked, gripping the gun tighter.

"Hank, what are you suggesting?" The other Connor asked, moving toward the older man.

"I'm suggesting you don't take another step or I'll blow your damn brains out." Hank replied. The android paused and slowly raised his hands.

"Hank, please, it's me." The imposter said, reaching out for Hank. Sumo growled from the living room.

With only one minute and twenty-six seconds remaining before he was gone for good, Connor desperately searched for some way of contacting Hank. There wasn't much he could do in his current state, but an analysis revealed that his was close enough to his music player to access it remotely. The rest of his systems were blocked, but this simple ability had been neglected due to its apparent innocuousness.

Connor activated the device and began playing his favorite song by Knights of the Black Death. The sound of the beginning bassline poured into the room from the speakers, grabbing the attention of both the other Connor and Hank.

The false Connor frowned in confusion, a motion Hank noticed and he quickly glanced down at the real Connor.

Connor couldn't exactly dance in his state, but he bobbed his head to the music and mouthed the words, shimmying awkwardly on the floor without his limbs. There were still tears falling from his face, but he fought through them to, if nothing else, make Hank smile one more time in the remaining minute of Connor's life.

Hank raised his gun to the other Connor with determination.

"Hank, wai—" The other Connor didn't get the chance to finish as a gunshot rang out and he fell to the floor, thirium staining the carpet.

Connor would have sobbed with relief had he been able to, Hank leapt to his side and lifted his battered torso into his arms.

"Connor, I've gotcha son, I've gotcha." The Lieutenant whispered, his face crumpling with worry as he looked over the android.

30 seconds remaining.

Connor frantically motioned to the device lodged in his head, though the other Connor would not receive his memories, Cyberlife would, and he would be unable to warn Markus of the coming danger. Not only that, he would be completely wiped, essentially dead, and a shell under Cyberlife's control.

Hank seemed to understand, and with mild panic and confusion, he ripped the device from Connor's head with 12 seconds to spare.

Connor sighed in relief, and curled closer to Hank. His stress levels were unbearably high and he could feel his system attempting to shut itself down for safety. He continued to cry. There was nothing he could tell Hank, he could only hope that a temporary shut down would end with him waking up, fully repaired and safe so he could see the people he cared about once again.

With the device removed, Connor was able to text Markus, informing him of the situation and asking for help. With the last of his strength, he mouthed to Hank:

"I love you."

As he slipped into darkness, he hoped Hank had understood.

Connor awoke he was pleased to discover he had feeling in his hands and feet, which had clearly been replaced. He opened his eyes and blinked while his optics calibrated to the glaring white light above him.

"Look who's awake." A voice said to his right, and he glanced over to see North leaning against a nearby wall.

"I'll go get the others." She said, and exited the room.

Connor attempted to sit up, only to find he was restrained. His diagnostic program informed him that he was fully repaired and operational, though he was still booting up and he had to load his synthetic skin.

Hank and Markus entered the room, followed by Simon, Josh, and North.

Connor was elated to see the Lieutenant, unharmed, though very tired looking. He was wearing a different outfit than Connor had seen him in last, and seemed reluctant to approach Connor beneath his obvious relief.

"Dad." Connor muttered joyfully, feeling the familiar sensation of wetness in his eyes. He hadn't fully calculated the potential consequences of what he'd said, somewhat forgetting that his voice box had been returned and he was able to speak. As soon as the word was out, Connor felt a twinge of regret, especially when he watched Hank curl in at it as though he'd been struck in the gut, his face crumbling with sadness.

But after a moment, Hank marched over and began undoing the straps that were holding Connor down.

"Lieutenant—" Josh began.

"It's him, trust me, it's him." Hank muttered, undoing the last constraint and scooping Connor into a crushing hug that the android gladly returned.

"Good enough for me." Markus said, and moved over to Connor's other side.

"We weren't sure whether your system had been compromised by Cyberlife." Simon explained.

"Plus, we had to repair you with some of the parts from the Connor, so we had to make sure there was no residual evilness in your left leg." North continued, earning a glare from Simon.

"I detect no remaining influence from Cyberlife." Connor stated, pulling away from Hank.

"Good." Hank growled, keeping hold of Connor's arm and surreptitiously wiping his eyes on his shoulders.

"It should stay that way too, Cyberlife is going to have a hard time coming back from this one." Markus said, gently placing a hand on Connor's shoulder.

"Turns out Cyberlife had plans to replace all of us, not just you." Josh explained with a sneer, and North shook her head angrily.

"They wanted to use your copy to infiltrate our leadership, then assume control. We don't know their plans after that, but we can assume it was nothing good." Markus supplied, also grimacing.

"The media is having a field day with it." Simon threw in with a small, satisfied smirk.

"The important thing is, you're safe now," Hank finally spoke up, looking warmly into Connor's face, "and we can go home." He finished.

After a few tests to be sure of Connor's full recovery (and getting him some clothes), they said their goodbyes and thanks to the other androids, made plans to meet again soon, and climbed into Hank's car. Hank didn't pull away immediately, instead he stared straight ahead and clenched his jaw, his hands wrapped around the wheel hard enough to whiten his knuckles.

"Hank?" Connor asked, leaning forward to look into the Lieutenant's face.

"I'm glad, that you're alright, you had me worried there." He ground out, still not looking at Connor.

"…Me too." Connor replied after a moment. Hank nodded in reply, dropping his chin to his chest.

"I saw what you said, and I want you to know, that, I feel the same way." Hank said, haltingly. He was breathing heavily, and Connor could hear him sniffling. The android hid the way his entire system lit up, both joyful and sorrowful. This was Hank's "I love you too."

Connor reached out and laid a hand on Hank's shoulder

"And it's your worst nickname yet." He muttered after a moment.

"What?" Connor responded.

"'Dad', is the worst nickname you've come up with for me yet." Hank mumbled, but Connor could hear his voice straining to remain level. He was crying.

Connor smiled.

"Even worse than 'Meat Man'?" He asked after a pause. Hank grimaced.

"Oh yeah, much worse." He replied, struggling to keep a straight face.

"Are you sure…Meaty Man?" Connor insisted. Hank spluttered, a small laugh.

"I'm. Sure." He growled, starting the car.

"Well then, I suppose I will have to call you that from now on." Connor concluded.

"You do that, son." Hank responded, desperately attempting to look stoic, and failing.

"I will." Connor replied, pretending he hadn't heard Hank call him "son". But he had, and it filled him with happiness.

Hank only shook his head and smiled. It was a little watery, but still a smile, and Connor was content.