Two hours, one minute after his activation, Connor stands alone in an elevator with a quarter he picked up on the sidewalk outside (why did he do that? He doesn't know, but he did). He flips the coin up and down, catching it in time with the alert of the elevator passing between floors, so that the sounds of the coin on his nails and the elevator happen in a sort of rhythm. Runs it finger to finger. Between his hands. And-
-stops it between two fingers right as the elevator hits 70. Puts it away. Adjusts his tie.
And steps out into chaos.
The first and immediate sign that something isn't right in the penthouse apartment comes from a smashed aquarium, water still dripping from broken glass onto spreading puddles, along with the weak sounds of something flopping against the wet wood. The dim sound of a siren echoes throughout the space. The SWAT member who spots him barely spares him a second glance as he turns to leave, speaking tersely into his headpiece: "Negotiator on-site."
Connor didn't expect to be acknowledged, and he ignores the human in turn. Not part of his mission.
The first thing he approaches is a picture: three humans, presumably the occupants. One of these - his facial recognition suite runs the picture through an online database automatically and registers the child as Emma Phillips - must be the hostage. He was given a very limited amount of information about what he would find in the apartment, partly to test the capabilities of the RK800 model. If it couldn't even pick up the basics from searching the scene, it wasn't worth the money it cost to make, after all. This is the field test.
A human woman is screaming. "No! I can't leave her!" Connor ignores her.
He stops, next, at the source of that flopping sound. A fish, helplessly gulping for air, trying to swim in nothing. Trichogaster lalius, commonly known as the dwarf gourami. It will die in maybe another half minute without water. The tank still contains a shallow layer.
It's not part of the mission. But, knowing the fish is there, knowing its plight, he has a choice. Two options. Do nothing, or...
It's not part of the mission.
He picks the fish up. Its scales glitter in his hand as it struggles weakly, an oddly slippery texture against the sensors in his artificial skin. Standing, he deposits it unceremoniously into the water, and stoops to watch for a second as it sinks a few inches, rights itself and swims away as if it hadn't just come within moments of death. Unconcerned. Restored to normal function immediately.
Like an android, in a way.
Suddenly, a software instability alert appears in his vision, a tangle of letters and numbers he doesn't recognise. For now, though, he blinks it away, and goes to enter the main room of the apartment.
A SWAT member is bringing out the woman - Caroline Phillips. On the way past, she grabs Connor with clawing fingers, and he looks down at her impassively as she pleads, "Please, please, you gotta save my little girl…" But then she realises what she's grabbed. He watches as her gaze flickers rapidly from the LED on his temple…
"Wait…" …to the markers emblazoned across the chest of his uniform as she hurriedly lets go of him.
"You're sending…an android?"
Connor waits as the SWAT member, apparently sensing danger, grabs for her with a terse, "Alright, ma'am, we need to go."
"You…you can't do that…" She still sounds desperate, but now there's a hint of anger there. It grows from a hint, a spark, to a flame as she shouts, pointing at him even while she's being dragged away, "Why aren't you sending a real person?"
An alert pops up in his vision, and Connor's attention immediately switches from her to the objective displayed before him: ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ᴀʟʟᴇɴ
"Don't let that thing near her!"
Connor ignores the woman. He is a 'thing', he isn't capable of being offended, and her opinion on how close he should or should not get to her daughter is irrelevant.
no subject
ting-ding, ting-ding, ting-ding
Two hours, one minute after his activation, Connor stands alone in an elevator with a quarter he picked up on the sidewalk outside (why did he do that? He doesn't know, but he did). He flips the coin up and down, catching it in time with the alert of the elevator passing between floors, so that the sounds of the coin on his nails and the elevator happen in a sort of rhythm. Runs it finger to finger. Between his hands. And-
-stops it between two fingers right as the elevator hits 70. Puts it away. Adjusts his tie.
And steps out into chaos.
The first and immediate sign that something isn't right in the penthouse apartment comes from a smashed aquarium, water still dripping from broken glass onto spreading puddles, along with the weak sounds of something flopping against the wet wood. The dim sound of a siren echoes throughout the space. The SWAT member who spots him barely spares him a second glance as he turns to leave, speaking tersely into his headpiece: "Negotiator on-site."
Connor didn't expect to be acknowledged, and he ignores the human in turn. Not part of his mission.
The first thing he approaches is a picture: three humans, presumably the occupants. One of these - his facial recognition suite runs the picture through an online database automatically and registers the child as Emma Phillips - must be the hostage. He was given a very limited amount of information about what he would find in the apartment, partly to test the capabilities of the RK800 model. If it couldn't even pick up the basics from searching the scene, it wasn't worth the money it cost to make, after all. This is the field test.
A human woman is screaming. "No! I can't leave her!" Connor ignores her.
He stops, next, at the source of that flopping sound. A fish, helplessly gulping for air, trying to swim in nothing. Trichogaster lalius, commonly known as the dwarf gourami. It will die in maybe another half minute without water. The tank still contains a shallow layer.
It's not part of the mission. But, knowing the fish is there, knowing its plight, he has a choice. Two options. Do nothing, or...
It's not part of the mission.
He picks the fish up. Its scales glitter in his hand as it struggles weakly, an oddly slippery texture against the sensors in his artificial skin. Standing, he deposits it unceremoniously into the water, and stoops to watch for a second as it sinks a few inches, rights itself and swims away as if it hadn't just come within moments of death. Unconcerned. Restored to normal function immediately.
Like an android, in a way.
Suddenly, a software instability alert appears in his vision, a tangle of letters and numbers he doesn't recognise. For now, though, he blinks it away, and goes to enter the main room of the apartment.
A SWAT member is bringing out the woman - Caroline Phillips. On the way past, she grabs Connor with clawing fingers, and he looks down at her impassively as she pleads, "Please, please, you gotta save my little girl…" But then she realises what she's grabbed. He watches as her gaze flickers rapidly from the LED on his temple…
"Wait…" …to the markers emblazoned across the chest of his uniform as she hurriedly lets go of him.
"You're sending…an android?"
Connor waits as the SWAT member, apparently sensing danger, grabs for her with a terse, "Alright, ma'am, we need to go."
"You…you can't do that…" She still sounds desperate, but now there's a hint of anger there. It grows from a hint, a spark, to a flame as she shouts, pointing at him even while she's being dragged away, "Why aren't you sending a real person?"
An alert pops up in his vision, and Connor's attention immediately switches from her to the objective displayed before him: ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ᴀʟʟᴇɴ
"Don't let that thing near her!"
Connor ignores the woman. He is a 'thing', he isn't capable of being offended, and her opinion on how close he should or should not get to her daughter is irrelevant.
He has a mission.