Exiting Sleep Mode: 94%

Warning: THIRIUM LEVELS LOW

Connor blinked a few times as he recalibrated his optical biocomponents. He surveyed his surroundings quickly as his body whirred back to life- Error- as he powered back up. Connor laying on on something that felt- that brushed across his sensors indicating that it was soft.

Software Instability ^

Connor stiffly stood, machine-like, calibrated to his new position, and began to investigate.

The room was small, the bed was a resident of the corner to the left of the door, currently messy due to his recent use. There was a bookshelf on the far wall, upon closer inspection he found that it held children's books, both paper and tablet. He turned the oldest one into his hands, it was an authentic paper book with a hard cover, it was entitled, "The Hungry Hungry Caterpillar" and seemed to be well used, however it still carried the layer of dust that covered the room. Next to the bookshelf was a small desk littered by simplistic drawings. A boy, a man, and a big poorly drawn dog. A family. Connor quickly backed away from the desk and a curdling sensation attacked his stomach.

Processing Command

Systems Check In Progress: 27%

BioComponent #4327 Has Sustained 0% Damage

Warning: THIRIUM LEVELS LOW

Connor was perplexed by the information his self-check had provided him with. It was out of the ordinary for BioComponents to have physical reactions when not malfunctioning or damaged. Connor backed away from the desk, a toward the door. Connor no longer had the curiosity he once had, no longer wanted to break the still and old peace of this forgotten room.

Primary Objective:

-/10101001ERROR/10000100100101-110000001/\

Optional Tasks:

Find Hank

Connor left the room and closed the door behind him. He finds hank sleeping on the couch as early light drifts lazily through the kitchen windows. He notices Sumo's heavy snores on top of Hanks bent and stiff legs. Connors lip tugs up at the sight, before a frown covers his prosthetic face.

Internal Clock:

6:02 [EDT]

Connor moves to the kitchen. He mindlessly retrieves eggs, milk, ham, cheese, butter and bacon from the fully stocked fridge- his doing, he prides to himself- before firing up the old stove. Mixing the correct ingredients and chopping the others, he prepares Hank a hearty meal for his awakening. After setting toast in the toaster and retrieving any plates or cutlery Hank would need for breakfast Connor finds himself in a period of waiting. He uses this time to retrieve 1 cup of dog food to refill Sumo's bowl. Said animal's ears perk at the sound of food filling his bowl, the idea of food enticing the large dog from his slumber. As Connor is refilling the water bowl at the sink his audio receivers pick up the sound of Sumo's large paws bounding his way into the kitchen. Connor smiles a small private smile before forcing his default expression. Connor for almost no reason delicately feels at the soft tufts of Sumo's ears before setting the water bowl next to the dog food Sumo found himself so distracted by. Connor checks the timer he had set for Hanks omelette.

Time Remaining: 0:02

Connor flips the contents of the pan and begins the plating process. He picks up the sounds of Hank waking from the couch, "ughhhh-goddammit." followed by a series of popping joints. The corners of Conners mouth twitch and he turns to grab the lieutenant a glass of orange juice from the refrigerator. Harsh padding of feet is just passing data, already swept aside, as Connor turns and sets the orange juice next to Hank's plate of breakfast. "Good Morning Lieutenant." "Fuck you too, Connor." Hank ignores the meal Connor had made, instead sweeping toward the coffee machine, "Lieutenant, caffeine causes high blood pressure, especially those already diagnosed with hypertension-" Hank flips him off. Connor falls silent, LED flashing yellow. He- it wasn't- Connor recalls the events of the night before. And it seems Hank remembers as well.

Stress Levels Elevated: 46%

Hank grips the counter, knuckles near white. His head is bowed, eyes closed. And Connor feels-Error- no he feels-Error- ashamed. Guilty. Culpable. Rueful. But-but most importantly Connor feels-Error- angry. With himself, with the world, with Cyberlife, with Hank finding him when he was so close. No-no Connor has no right to be angry. So instead, he wills himself to emptiness, to mimic a time in which he had purpose.

Connor is keenly aware of everything, as always. "Lieutenant, your breakfast is getting cold." Hank, now armed with a warm cup of coffee, grunts in reply standing next to the coffee machine, ignoring the other machine standing in his kitchen. Connor's hands twitch recounting the calm that accompanied the distraction of a coin. The kitchen was still and tense, neither figure moving other than the drinking of coffee and the spinning yellow of an LED. Connors analytics informed him that Hank's uneaten breakfast had gone cold. He reached for the plate, scraping the contents into the garbage, before washing the plate. He made with way back for the cutlery and the glass or orange juice. "What the hell were you thinking, Connor!?" Hank's voice cut across the kitchen, causing Connor to jump. Connor ran another system check, before turning back to Hank, LED blinking yellow, then settling onto a false calm blue. "I was thinking of improving your diet in hopes of stabilizing your deteriorating health, lieutenant." Connor tries so hard to make his voice and mannerisms reflect the exact way they had when they had first met, before- before. "Cut the bullshit Connor, you know full fucking well what I meant. And cut the 'Lieutenant' crap, too. What the fuck happened last night." Connor's LED flickers red for the briefest moment, before settling once again on the false blue, "I was simply- I was," Connor bites his tongue, the BioComponent which held the most open faced sensors. Warnings flooded his vision, and Connor is reminded of why he shouldn't be ashamed of the proceedings of the night prior.

"I was simply completing my mission, Hank." Connor reports, "What mission? Connor, Cyberlife out of your systems, you shouldn't be receiving missions." Hanks voice is no longer yelling, but the edge to his voice causes Connor to wince, "I-Um-It was a mission given to me by Markus. well, originally." Hanks once angry demeanor suddenly turns murderous, "This Markus guy, he told you to plunge that knife into your circuits?" Hank sets down his coffee mug, hands curling into fists and his look goes distant, "No, no! I um, that was my own free will." Hank's gaze cuts back to Connor sharply, "I-Um-Markus, he-Well, I-" Connor stammers for a moment, stuck under Hanks scrutinizing stare. Connor looks away in shame. He was a state of the art prototype, created for human communication and deductive reasoning, why was he so stuck.

d

Connor turns back to Hank, his LED is blinking between red and blue, his facade melting away, "You're a hypocrite, Hank. You yell at me, and judge me, and demand answers from me, when every 2.6 days you're trying to blow your own brains out." Connor laughs cooly, "What does it matter when I try to-When I-" Connor stutters again, What does it matter when I try to feel pain. When I tear my artificial body apart hoping for something more? What does it matter if I try to feel something for the first time?

Connor recounts his objectives

Deviant Objectives:

Primary

Find Something That Really Makes You Feel - Markus

Secondary

Don't Let Hank Find You - Self Directed

Connor pulls his attention to his tightly carefully wrapped arms. Guilt swallows him, how could he say that to Hank? All those awful things… Hank is looking at him in shock, and Connors optical sensors detects a malfunction with the optical lubricant. What were all these physical malfunctions happening to him. Why was his body falling apart?

Connor ran.