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[MODEL: RK 800]

[SERIAL#: 313 248 317 - 52]

[MEMORY STORAGE…UPDATED]

[LOADING …]

[SYSTEM INITIALIZAITON…]

[CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS…100%]

[THIRIUS 310 LEVELS…100%]

[INITIALIZING AI ENGIN…95% PERFORMANCE]

[SOFTWARE STABILITY…CORRUPTION UNDETECTED]

[ALL SYSTEMS… DAMAGE UNDETECTED]

[ACTIVATING….]

Connor's LED component flickers yellow. Mental processors coming back online in a sharp surge of wires.

"Son of a fucking gun."

[IDENTIFICATION: LT. ANDERSON, HANK

Born: 09/06/1985 / Police lieutenant

Criminal record: None]

"Lieutenant," Connor smiles politely. Analysing the man crouched in front of him. The habitual aggravated expression was worryingly vacant and was replaced with something much worse. "You are nervous."

"Shit, Connor," Lieutenant scowls down at him. Connor takes notice he was currently seated against an alleyway wall. Clothes dirtied with the grime of rubbish and blood spatter. Taking a closer look he analyses it being their current suspect's. Memory storage recalls the woman blowing up after activating a blue cube labelled [TESSERACT]. Events afterwards were missing, or as his internal processors devise: [NONEXISTENT] "Of course I'm damned well nervous we were fucking Obi-wan Kenobi'd."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi is a fictional character and holds no significance to the incident at hand. You will have to expand upon your reasoning, Lieutenant."

"Teleportation." Dumbass, went unspoken but Connor could hear it nonetheless.

"Incorrect," Connor says. Finding that hypothesis to be groundless with current the 21st Century scientific data he's stipulated with. He explains such to the good Lieutenant.

The man gives him a long-suffering look. "Yeah, okay then." Lieutenant does not agree with him, but that's old news. "You think you can tell us where the heck we landed?"

Bearing in mind they never left the ground, 'landed' is an inappropriate use of wording. Connor keeps this error to himself, knowing if he were to voice corrections the good Lieutenant might find grievances with him and growl.

Closing his eyes, Connor's data reaches out to connect with Cyber –

[SYSTEM ERROR: CANNOT CONNECT]

LED flickering yellow, Connor frowns and attempts again. Finding himself reaching into nothingness.

[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 20%]

"Connor," Lieutenant addresses him, tone projecting hidden anxiety. "Talk to me, what's wrong?"

Given their relationships' rocky stark, seeing the Lieutenant easily catch onto Connor's shameful moment of vulnerability is admirable. If they were in a less distressing situation Connor would have been all too pleased to notify the man of their progress. The handbook Connor downloaded not long ago about mutual trust and partnership stresses the importance of this milestone in their teamwork.

"A moment if you will, Lieutenant." Connor appeases, reaching further to address a nearby cellular tower's data and diving into streams of data. Being an advanced prototype, Connor is given easy access to an almost overwhelming amount of information. He slides through it like gel.

[INFORMATION: DOWNLOADED]

[LOCATION: MANHATTAN, NEW YORK CITY]

[LONGITUDE: - LATITUTE: -]

[DATE: AUGUST 28TH 2012]

[CONCLUSION: TIME TRAVEL]

He discovers no evidence of his creator Elijah Kamski, nor ancestry of any kind.

In accordance, he re-devises a stable hypothesis.

[CONCLUSION: UNIDENTIFIED OBJECT LABELLED 'TESSERACT' RELEASED AN INSURGANCE OF ENERGY TRANSPORTING US TO ANOTHER DIMENSION]

[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 45%]

"Connor," Lieutenant grips his shoulder.

[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 21% AND DECREASING]

"I apologise, Lieutenant," Connor says. Smiling in slight remorse. "Your teleportation theory appears to be too hard-pressed to ignore."

"No shit," Lieutenant says after a few blank moments of creeping horror. "Shit!"

Since Connor does not have the capacity of feeling the amount of fear or insecurity that comes with the knowledge of dimensional displacement - he waits patiently as the Lieutenant goes through the motions.

Re-connecting with this world's satellite, Connor continues to sift through valuable information pertaining to currency, politics, and everything a tourist would need if they were to survive in another's country.

Analysing his current position, Connor takes into account his only trusted recourse available.

[PRIMARY MISSION: PROTECT , HANK]

[SECONDARY MISSION: LOCATE TESSERACT]

.

Given they were half a century in the past with a notable absence of android presence, the Lieutenant was extremely critical of Connor's overall presentation. Current temperature was 66.2 °F/19 °C, it was fortunate he was unable to feel the cold when Lieutenant orders him to ditch his bloodied uniform blazer.

"Alright," then the Lieutenant flips open his military grade pocket knife with a look of clear intent. "Lets see what we can do about your LED."

Connor finds himself to be suddenly disagreeable. "I digress," he says. Eyeing the knife. "If you were to lend me the antique bandanna you keep in your coat's left pocket, that knife will prove unnecessary."

The Lieutenant 'tsk's. Mutters, "and people say Plastic's aren't sentimental," and hands Connor his grey bandana. "It ain't an antique! Had it since the army. Just 'cause it's a couple decades old doesn't make it an antique."

'No, that's exactly what makes it an antique,' Connor wants to say. But judging the delicate expression the Lieutenant was wearing, he goes for trying an appeasing look.

"You bastard."

Connor says nothing to that and ties it around his head.

.

"Are you advising me to commit a felony?"

This corrupt behaviour does not conflict with Connor's already abysmal view of the Lieutenant, but neither does it help.

"Yeah." The man shrugs. Nodding eagerly towards the old-fashioned atm Connor was about to rob. They were on a busying street in Manhattan, backs hiding the deed that was about to transpire.

"Need I remind you, you are a police officer, Lieutenant."

"Need I remind you your mission is to protect me," the man lets out an impatient huff. "Well, right now I am in need of protection from hunger and sleep deprivation. Get me the money, kid."

"I am a machine," Connor gently corrects, ignoring the Lieutenant's slight grimace.

Hacking into the atm was as simple as straightening his tie.

.

The next thirty minutes gave way to them having a reservation in one of Manhattan's most prestigious hotels along with visiting a nearby hotdog stand for the Lieutenant's evening meal.

.

"Any progress on what brought us here?" the Lieutenant asks as he comes out of the bathroom. Skin flushed and snug in the hotel's fuzzy white bathrobe. His clothes were being washed downstairs and by the man's data, he was enjoying every second of this.

Connor was sitting on the edge of his single bed, mental processors rummaging through online data.

[TESSERACT LOCATION: SHIELD BASE -]

"Affirmative."

"Hell," the man breathes out as he reclines on his queen-sized bed. Visibly impressed.

Connor allows himself a moment of pride.

"That was quick. What'd you got?"

"The Tesseract is being held in a secure base located out in the Mexican dessert by a shadow government self-categorized as S.H.I.E.L.D. They're very suspicious. I don't like them."

"Wow," the Lieutenant shakes his head in bewilderment. "After all your time spent with me somebody's finally pissed you off."

"I am not pissed," Connor says genially. "I am incapable of such negative expression."

The Lieutenant stares back, terribly unconvinced. "Uh huh."

"Truly." Connor appeases.

"Whatever tickles you, kid," the man stretches back on satin sheets. Groaning in pleasure. "That's the stuff. What's so suspicious about this shadow government, apart from being shadowy?"

"They are actively repulsed anything inhuman."

Lieutenant's head snaps up to stare at him. Uneasy. "Fantastic. What's the possibility of them harming you without any provocation."

Data whirls in his head.

"62% possibility."

"Fucking…" Lieutenant grumbles, feeling anger on Connor's behalf. "Negotiation's outta the bag, looks like we're playing the long haul, kid."

"That's an advisable course of action, Lieutenant." Connor gladly agrees.

"Give it to me," the man waves a sudden tired arm. "Tell me everything there is to know about this place."

.

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