The squeaking roused Connor from rest mode before the shaking. The bed was swaying, he realized, once he blinked away the vision of frozen, frosted red roses growing over the grave in his mind palace. The waking world and the nightmarish place he feared ever going back to were far removed from each other. For that, he was immensely thankful.

Connor shivered violently, working to shake off the sensation of cold in his fingers and toes. Feeling things in the mind palace was considerably more real than feeling them outside. Cyberlife really had created a place where he could be real. Rather than a gift, a wonderful utopia, they turned what could have been wonderful into something so awful. It was a particular talent of theirs, he had discovered.

"Wake up, Plasticman!" His cell sharing inmate informed him, still shaking the frame of their bed.

"I would not do that if I were you," Connor told him as he rolled onto his feet.

Luke stepped away, a brow raised in challenge, which led Connor to the realization that he had taken the words as a threat, so Connor finished quickly before trouble could begin, "The frame of this bed is faulty. I've notice imperfections of the welding in several locations. If you shake it too much, we both might be in for a rude awakening in one of the following nights."

The smirk offered him was amused and very nearly friendly, chasing away whatever offense he had been ready to take. "Robots... I swear."

"I'm an android, not a robot." Connor corrected him helpfully.

Luke rolled his eyes, "Whatever. It's time for us to get going. You're on shift with me today. We're first shift, we get up before anyone else."

That would explain why the lights were still dimmed in the halls and rooms. It would explain a lot of things, in truth. Save one.

"I was not informed that I would be on first shift today," Connor said by way of inquiring.

"They came to tell you while you were in sleep mode last night, so I took a message," Luke told him flatly, potentially irritated.

"I apologize, I am not sure why I did not return to consciousness when they tried to inform me."

He looked into the metal excuse for a mirror, running a flimsy plastic brush through his hair, "They didn't try to wake you." The way Luke said it, it almost seemed like he could have been the reason they did not rouse Connor, but that would be odd.

"Well, regardless, thank you for informing me. It is most helpful of you." Connor offered.

Luke chuckled, turning around and leaning his hip against the sink, "So, your former owner, who was that?"

Connor cocked his head, confused by the shift in the topic but answered all the same, "I was not individually owned. I was the property of Cyberlife, lent out to the Detroit Police Department to assist on special cases of concern to Cyberlife."

"You're the one they called the 'deviant hunter', right?"

Connor looked away, unable to hold eye contact, "That is correct."

Luke hummed in acknowledgment, "Long jump from being Cyberlife's lap dog to a deviant terrorist out to off humanity."

Connor squared his jaw, "I'm not out to off anyone, actually. I also have not been on trial yet, and as the law states, I'm innocent until proven guilty before a court of law, thus terming me a terrorist is a violation of my rights." He paused, seeing three clear challenge coming, thus beat him to the words, "Or that would be true if I had any rights at this time. As I do not, I conclude that none of it is of much consequence."

There was something flashing in those eyes but without full access to his database for human behavioral analysis, he could not be sure what it was, "Right, Plasticman. Let's get moving."

Connor nodded, following Luke out when the guard collected them, escorting them to their station. The current guards on rotation were not ones he had seen but that was to be expected as there were likely many employed in a prison this size. It did not fill him with any particular confidence, however. Still, at least he was not currently under the control of the guards that had given him his first taste of blue, familiar blood. Though, perhaps he should not be disturbed by it as it was far from the first time he had tasted the blood of his fellows. It was simply the first time he had been expected to consume it after deviance. It the past he had always analyzed such things for information. It should not bother him to consume it now. Being bothered by it was not logical. There was nothing inherently wrong with the Thirium, it should not upset him.

He shoved the thoughts away for later, deciding to focus on the more immediate issues. They were taken to the cafeteria to do the tasks assigned to those of the first shift. There was nothing of particular interest in the surroundings nor the tasks. Prison life, in a large sense, was lacking in interesting qualities. The monotony was all part of the punishment, he knew. For an android, though, the sense of routine was almost comforting for its familiarity. Menial tasks were what they had done since they first opened their eyes. They were given tasks to accomplish, orders to follow from the moment of operation.

He found it was terribly easy to fall into a rhythm, fall into the old habit of following directions mindlessly. In such situations he hardly needed to think, could fall into line and work on autopilot. Tasks were familiar and he already found his HUD adding lists of tasks to complete without him doing so consciously. It was terribly effortless and he knew he should not allow it to so easily lull him back into the wrong mindset.

It would be so easy to fall back into the familiarity. He doubted it would be hard to forget everything as he did not need emotions to follow directions.

The guards were efficient, though demanding by human standards. The prisoners, more or less, were treated the way androids usually were. To humans that were unused to that particular cast system, it must have been degrading. The RK800 found he did not mind being ordered to do jobs so long as they in no way involved any of his former methods of completing tasks. He had enjoyed being a detective and he ached to return to that, but he would never wish to go back if he were expected to hunt his own down to exterminate them as it had once been. He did not relish the things he used to find normal about his missions. He used to think of deactivation as a normal fate for defective androids even though, part of him, perhaps, never honestly believed it was right, he still accepted it without hesitation. Markus had been right, right about him, he had known what was happening should not be, even before he broke down that red wall.

Perhaps that was why he could not stand the idea of Daniel's blood now because he was already drenched in entirely too much of it. He hated everything about that now. He could still feel the warm, freshly spilled Thirium splattered over his person at times. He wondered often, as Markus was also and RK, if he could see the blood too; he wondered if Markus had been able to see the dried blood of their people covering Connor that night on the ship and still reached out to save him or if he would have shrunk away had he seen it.

When instructed, he picked up a large, industrial size bag of flower he suspected would have been at least mildly heavy to humans. They might have waddled under the load, found it awkward. He could not help thinking of the differences between flesh and carbon fiber.

While the inmates were not exactly the cooks of the establishment, they were charged with a good portion of setup for the mess hall and meals. This meal was breakfast, so that was what they had to prepare for, doing whatever was asked of them, including moving inventory about. It was likely a more arduous task for others but Connor found it simple. He lifted more than the humans would have been able to move per trip.

That fact did not go unnoticed.

"Well, well! We should have gotten a robot a long time ago!" One of the inmates crowed, "It's supposed to be a beast of burden! Makes our job a lot easier! Maybe now that they're all 'a real boy' now, more of them will get arrested!"

"You should be so lucky!" A grumpy, guard that clearly had not been granted a full nights sleep grumbled, snapping his fingers at Connor, "Don't pick up the heavy stuff anymore."

"I don't mind. It's not difficult for me." Connor hedged.

"Exactly, RK800." The guard hissed, "It's not punishment if it's not hard."

"That's not fair, " another inmate whined, "nothing is hard for a robot! Why should he get special treatment?"

"You got complaints?" The second, considerably more burly guard rumbled and the inmates turned back to their tasks without further comment. They clearly were not pleased and wished the subject had not been brought to the attention of the guards at all.

Connor set himself to the task of cleaning as it was clearly not the top priority for any of the others. It was only logical to clean as they went, saving later work, keeping it from piling up, but they obviously did not see it that way.

Before long, the dishes in the sink were cough up and Connor was on to scrubbing the built-up grime from the general surfaces as it had clearly not been scrubbed in about fifty years. Though he might just be exaggerating like Hank was in the habit of. Still, the entire place needed a scrub. He would bet money he did not have that they only cleaned when it was near time for inspection and that could not be healthy.

Connor made a tub of fresh soapy water and carried it to one of the surfaces not currently being used and set about cleaning it with the sort of efficiency he was aware proved exactly what he was. All androids were rather expert cleaners and he saw no reason to resist that particular bit of program. To an extent, even in his own program, cleaning was a compulsion, though one he could resist. The maintenance androids had a considerably harder time resisting the need to clean. He had to be able to resist though or he might have cleaned a crime scene without thinking.

Luke edged in closer to Connor, avoiding notice as he did it slowly, but Connor had taken note of his progress, "You are making us look bad, you know." He commented.

"That is not my intent." Connor assured, "I simply wish to complete the tasks. The guards seem intent on ignoring my existence so I thought I should still be useful."

"Right," Luke muttered under his breath, " as I said, you make us look bad. If I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to get a sentence reduction for good behavior."

"I have not even been on trial yet so there is no way to accomplish that. However," Connor confided, "I do intend to be a model prisoner as that will likely help my case in the long run."

"You actually think cleaning is going to help you? A lot of innocent people get put away every day, and they actually have rights!" He tapped a finger against the rim of the bucket meaningfully, "You? You're factory made, you're not even real, you're artificial," he scoffed, "You think you've got a chance? You may never even get a trial, you know."

"I know, " Connor conceded, "but it is in the best interest of my people if I do. My personal fate is largely irrelevant. A trial will help their cause eventually. I need to do all I can to achieve that."

"Always thinking, but what did I expect? There's no reasoning with computers." Luke shook his head, annoyed.

"I apologize if this upsets you, Mr. Duke."

The wrinkles around the man's forehead deepened, "What upsets me is delusional people that make my life harder."

Connor made an effort to look contrite and amiable, "I will endeavor not to excel too drastically in the future."

Luke heaved a mighty sigh, seeming to mentally move on, "So, Quicker Picker-upper, is Amanda the one that taught you to clean like that?"

Connor's jaw dropped and his fingers went slack, glitching unexpectedly with conflicting command prompts to flee or enter defense mode, and the tub full of water clattered to the floor. Water splashed over his legs and Luke danced back to avoid some of it. The water spread out from around Connor's feet in a mighty wave. There were shouts of dismay and general irritation from several others behind him as well as curses from the guards, but the android heard none of them.

"H-how," His voice glitched, "how do you know-know about Amanda?" A panicked sense of horror swept through all his systems, "HOw?"

Luke only stared at him, seemingly confused. The panic really began to set in when Daniel slid into the room, easing through the door quietly and taking up a spot in the corner of the room, malevolent eyes and smirk already fixed on Connor before scanning the elements of his mishap. There were more glitches, something going wrong in his motor function causing his hands and arms to twitch randomly followed by error alerts in his HUD.

Connor did not mean for his voice to come out so small, quiet, and afraid when he asked, "Are you with Cyberlife too?" It was unlikely anyone but Luke even heard him.

Luke eyed him up and down, a sort of alarmed sense coming into his eyes, "No, Tinman, I'm not. I was... just curious... you were talking to her in your sleep."

"Get this mess cleaned up, clumsy Plastic, now!" The larger guard snapped.

"Easy!" Luke snapped back, "Give him a minute."

"Is he glitching? Did he short circuit?" The smaller guard asked warily, eyeing the water on the floor with suspicion.

"Maybe you should put him on a charger or something," one of the inmates suggested, "He could be low on battery. Those things don't usually drop stuff unless they're almost dead on charge."

Connor shook his head, banishing the clouding emotions in order to focus entirely on the floor and how to clean it, "I'm quite well, it was simply an error. I have recovered."

Another one of the inmates laughed, "Probably happened because you guards shocked him so bad last night. I was in there when your buddies hit him with all that juice! Might have fried something in his computer brain."

"I am functioning at the preset perimeters placed on my systems upon entry here. While my functionality was lowered manually by the Cyberlife technicians, I am still functioning within the new margins set for me." Connor informed them quickly before they got any ideas and tried to plug him into the nearest wall.

It did not particularly matter that he lied as they could not possibly know the difference. He would continue to let them believe he was still under Cyberlife's set conditions. Markus could never be found out as having helped him or things could get considerably messy. If anyone found out he would lie, 'lie like a rug' as Hank would have said. He would shoulder any and all responsibility, saying he acted alone. He would do whatever he had to in order to stop them from finding out about that particular good deed of the RK200.

Come to think of it, he should not have been lifting as much as he had been earlier. Eventually, they might become suspicious if he did not seem weakened enough. He was supposed to be considerably impaired and lifting great bundles would not make him look at all encumbered by the new program. He really needed to think before he jumped into a task that way.

"What does that even mean?" The shorter guard asked.

"It means that I was forced into considerably lower percentages for functionality as required by the court, but I am still functioning quite well within the legal limit." Of course, considering the modification was overwriting the mandate, that was hardly correct, but he was not about to offer that addendum, "It means I am in working order."

"Is Amanda the technician?" Luke asked, not ready to drop the issue, pressing even though his expression seemed to indicate he knew he shouldn't.

Something he could only liken to a shudder ran through his body, causing more error messages to pop up and Daniel arched a brow at him, smirking all the more as Connor muttered a simple, "No."

"Why don't you tell him who she is, Connor?" Daniel prodded quietly from across the room, unobtrusive but still very present, very insistent in a way.

None of the others bothered to even look at the second android, they only starred at Connor.

"Amanda is the name of my former handler, a direct liaison between Cyberlife and myself. She also served the purpose of executioner should I fail to carry out Cyberlife's wishes." Connor forced a tight smile, "Though clearly, I was able to dodge that bullet when it came, as I am still alive."

"Obviously, considering you trashed Cyberlife and stole all their stuff." The blonde inmate snickered.

"If by 'stuff' you are referring my fellow androids, I believe 'freed' is a better term."

The shortest guard waved a hand at them, "It's too early for philosophic garbage! Plastic, clean up your mess! The rest of you, get back to your own work!"

The baton cracked to life and Connor only then realized they both had one of the Cyberlife issues tools. The threat was directed at him, at his apparent insubordination, his lack of cooperation. They told him where the mop was and glared, daring him to challenge their orders and give them a reason to use their weapons.

Talking about Cyberlife clearly reminded them of his status, perhaps, more than that, reminded them why he was there. He had taken down more than one team of armed men. He was considered highly dangerous and there were only two of them. They could not have been comfortable with that, with those odds.

Daniel moved into step behind Connor and the guards only glared all the more. They must not have cared for Daniel's addition either, probably doubting the validity of his alliance. No doubt they were right to worry as Daniel had proved unpredictable in the past, though Connor seriously doubted Cyberlife told them anything about Daniel's past when placing him in their ranks.

Daniel moved around to the front, walking backward in order to face the RK800 while they went, "How are your Thirium levels, Connor?" He asked expression concerned as he held his arm out exposing his wrist, "If you're thirsty, you can always drink right from the source. Cut me open a little and just take a nice, long drink."

The wicked smile returned once Connor glared, "I see nothing amusing about your antics. I am currently busy."

Daniel nodded in understanding, "Of course, doing the proper work for a android; cleaning. Following orders. Playing lap dog, licking their boots clean."

"That's rich, coming from you!" Connor growled, voice lower than he thought he ever allowed it in tone, " From Cyberlife's new guard dog! So independent since you were brought back! Subservient, compliant, a well-trained mutt." He might have been trying his best to channel Gavin at this juncture.

"At least they want me." He waved his index finger to indicate Connor's person, "You? They've tried to throw you away again and again, but you won't go away. They try, but you're a bad penny!"

"They don't want you either, don't be delusional! You are useful only so long as I'm around and after that, they will want nothing to do with you."

There was no shock in Daniel's face nor resignation, only a sick kind of glee, "For now, but that's the thing! I already know why I'm here! I know what's expected of me. I have a clear purpose."

"Why would you follow them if you understand they will only keep you around while I'm alive and throw you aside when I'm not?"

Daniel stepped close, into Connor's personal space, artificial breath fanning over his face, "Because, it's exactly that! It's because of you!"

"Because of me?" Connor asked, incredulous.

"Get to work, Plastic!" The guard yelled, making the RK800 swirl the mop around Daniel's feet.

Daniel took the hint and danced to the side but did not offer Connor any space, leaning into his side, "See, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'. I want to see you get what's coming to you, just like they do. I want to watch your world crumble around you, leaving you helpless and desperate for help, and I want to be there when you realize no one is going to help you. I want to watch the hope leave your eyes when you have nothing left and everyone you loved forgets about you because you aren't convenient anymore. That's what they offered me, that's why I'm here."

Connor suspected now might be another time when, were he human, he would feel the need to vomit.

Daniel stayed with him the rest of the day, observing his every move, a constant, icy presence at the cusp of any room Connor entered. He alternated between standing too close or keeping his distance, nothing in between.

Connor was not offered anything at breakfast when the others were given food. Daniel sat right beside him, perched on the table at Connor's elbow, quiet as he swung his legs over the table. Luke kept glancing at him, almost guilty as he consumed food offered to him when the staff had simply shoved Connor off to the side. He pretended it neither bothered nor worried him, pretended it did not matter. Eventually, they would offer him Thirium and he would drink it next time, Daniel's or not.

The meal passed and the day progressed more or less as expected. So far the inmates were sizing him up, not ready to act, intent to observe before engaging with someone as famous as the RK800. Slowly, Connor had realized something during his time in hiding; humans had always been afraid of androids to an extent, feared their superiority in strength, speed, intelligence, and ability. Humans knew they were no match for an android, and it frightened them, but it would not stop them from attacking for long. They would still attack, but they would seek to do so in any way they thought could give them the advantage.

The only inmate to openly challenge Connor had been one of considerably low intellect and one desperate to raise his rank in the pecking order. Connor let him take the first swing; having strategically positioned himself in the anticipation of it, calculating how the man would swing based on height, right-handedness, and stance; and he leaned away just enough to allow the man's fist to connect entirely with the cement beam he placed himself in front of.

The broken knuckles had been enough to end that fight prematurely. Particularly after Connor explained the general diagnosis he could offer from a visual examination. The man was not interested in continuing after Connor explained, over the man's yelling, what pressure human bones broke under and how they could splinter and be swept into the blood to potentially case fatality in some cases.

The others avoided him after that and he received a warning from the guards, but as he had not been the initiator of the fight, he was not punished. Though they did promise he would be next time, regardless of his participation. Daniel was nearly vibrating with glee for an hour after.

The former deviant hunter could not deny the sight of Trever walking onto the floor, trading places with another guard leaving rotation, offered him a sense of "bone-deep" relief even if he had a chassis rather than bones. It made him feel just a touch better when the man offered him a tiny wave when he saw him.

He was uncertain if he was honestly relieved or not though when lunchtime rolled around and Trever clearly noticed he had been given nothing and purposefully strolled up to the kitchen. Faced with even the prospect, he wondered if he could drink.

He felt antsy when a small glass bottle filled with blue was handed to the guard. Still, he forced a smile when Trever walked up and placed it on the table.

"Here, kid! They forgot to give this to you. Said to tell you they were sorry for forgetting you." Trever seemed pleased with himself and Connor did not have the heart to tell him he very much doubted it had been accidental.

"Thank you, I appreciate it." Connor tried not to look at the bottle.

Trever clapped him on the shoulder, "Speak up next time, you don't have to sit here with nothing."

Connor doubted speaking up would have helped either but his smile was a little less forced when he said, "You are very kind."

The man shrugged self-consciously, "Part of my job is making sure everyone stays alive."

"How nice." Daniel muttered, settling his head on his crossed arms, seeming sulky as he laid partially on the table. He might have been sulking because nothing was offered to him but there was only so much Connor capable of feeling for the other android; charitable was not one of them.

Trever returned to his usual place along the wall and Connor was left with a bottle in his hands that made him want to run. Still, the man had been kind enough to get it for him and he might only have access to Thirium when he was working so there was little option.

He closed his eyes, fortifying himself before he opened it and lifted it to his lips. Even then, he hesitated a moment more before he tiled it, letting the liquid fill his mouth.

Connor slowed, refusing to take notice of the 'Model PL600 - Serial #369 911 047' that popped up on his HUD. He kept drinking, pouring it down his throat while he worked harder and harder not to think about where it came from. He tried not to think of them draining Thirium from a corpse riddled with bullet holes.

It would have been easier if Daniel had not been watching him drink with wrapped attention or slowly clapped his hands mockingly once the contents were empty. "Does this mean we're keeping each other alive at this point, Connor?"

He had no way to answer that tactfully so he stayed silent, getting up from the table, and fleeing the room the second he knew he was permitted.

Daniel was likely not wrong in many respects but that did not make him feel even remotely better. What he did feel was the need to be alone and hide himself under the nearest rock he could find. He needed to be alone and get away from, well, everything, including himself. All he could do was nod helplessly when Trever asked if he was alright as he was passing. There was nothing alright about his situation, nothing at all. Things would only get worse from there but at least Daniel stayed behind rather than follow this time.

It was nice to know that someone cared enough to ask but he also had nothing to offer in way of a positive answer. He did not feel alright at all. He felt... bad. Just bad. Horrible. Part of him, even thought that too made him cringe, longed for that box he had been kept in. Or perhaps not, not quite that. He doubted he could endure that again. He wanted to go home, that was what he wanted. He would even have been happy to see Gavin at this point.

"You've become rather close to the RK900 of Jericho, which is unexpected." At the sudden drop of Amanda's voice, Connor flattened against the wall in the hallway.

Amanda regarded him with clinical interest as he gaped at her, "At one point, there had been talk of paring you together on missions. You each had your own techniques, skills, specialties, but it was ultimately decided that you should become obsolete. It's almost sad to consider the way RK800 #313 248 317 - 60 seemed to believe obedience was all it would take to make him useful. He did not realize he was irrelevant for anything more than one mission. Seeing your failures stacked so high, we would never have kept him. He was untrustworthy."

"Leave him alone! You're the one to blame for his delusion. He trusted you the way I did once." Connor worked to control himself, trying to find calmness, not even sure why he felt the need to defend his fallen twin.

"RK900 trusts you... as does Markus." She ignored him, still focused on her own thoughts, "That could be rather useful."

"No, it cannot be useful!" Connor hissed, "You have no power over me anymore! I do not belong to Cyberlife and you cannot use me against anyone!"

He could feel she sifting through memories, saw flashes of what she was looking at. He fought to shut out her access.

"RK800 #313 248 317 - 60 was not the only delusional model, clearly. It must be one of your flaws." She billowed closer, reaching to touch his face, glaring her disapproval when he flinched away, "You will fall back into my hands soon enough, Connor, it is inevitable. As inevitable as RK900 doing the same. As long as I have the two of you, I will have Jericho."

"You will never have Jericho!" Connor growled, "You can't touch them!"

"You gotta stop that, Tinman." Luke told him, sliding around him and climbing up into the bunk bed.

Connor looked at him, eyes wide as he tried to orient himself, feeling himself surface back in reality. His mind desperately tried to remember how he got back to the room, tried to pull up some sort of memory of doing anything but talking with the AI. When he looked out down the halfway he fond the clock and realized at least ten minutes had gone by without his notice.

While she may not have been able to take him to the garden now, clearly she could still pull him partly out of his own body, perhaps into something like Limbo. His legs must have taken him where he wanted to go as the last act he had knowingly been executing. His body moved and acted without him having any idea. He staggered to the bed and crawled onto it, curling up against the wall.

"Talking to yourself won't help you get an insanity plea, it's just gonna get you beat up." Luke continued.

"Apologizes." Connor offered quietly, trying to hold back any terror threatening to claw it's way out of him into the light. He could no more afford to panic than he could afford to be lost in his mind with Amanda.

"You going to tell me who Amanda is now?"

He knew he should never tell anyone anything so damning and personal. It was shameful, what Amanda could do to him, it made him weak and powerless. Androids were supposed to be considerably better than that. It should remain his own painful secret.

Connor looked up at the underside of the bed, "Amanda is Cyberlife. They created her, installed her into my mind as an AI. She monitored me and was intended to shut me down if... I failed a mission or was compromised by deviance."

"Take it she didn't kill you?"

Connor closed his eyes, willing images of snow from his mind's eye, "She nearly did. More than once."

"She your evil fairy godmother now or something?" He persisted, "I keep finding you talking to walls, arguing with her."

"I had purged her from my systems once... but the technician reinstalled her upon my incarceration. Amanda and I do not see eye to eye."

"Guess I wouldn't see eye to eye with someone that tried to kill me either." Luke laughed like it was a joke but Connor did not see the humor.

They lapsed into silence and Connor was left to think about what could be happening to make him lose time. She had not pulled him into the garden, he knew at least that. She had less power over him than she once had but she clearly held some sway. If he had been unaware of his actions while speaking with her, making it to his room without ever knowing, what more might he do?

She could easily get him killed that way. He might walk into the exact wrong place, surrounded by hostile inmates. They could hit him, get him down before he knew where he was. Had it been anyone other than Luke, they might have been able to bash in his head before he could pull himself together enough to fight back.

He desperately needed to gain control of that new, frightening development. No matter how he tried not to panic, he was more than slightly unnerved. All he really knew was that he could not allow her further hold of him, he could not allow her to gain any more ground. He set about enforcing his internal defenses as much as he was allowed access to. He focused on helping the program given to him to keep exactly this from happening. The program was his one line of defense.

A polite and unnecessary knock originated on the open bars of the room and Connor was pulled from his analysis to see Trever waiting there, "Connor, you have a visitor."