#poor connor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

connorwhumpaddict · 2 years

Text

Deserving of pain (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Epilogue

Summary: Connor is finally allowed back in the field after he’s recovered from his synthetic muscles’ severe malfunctions (caused by Reed unbeknownst to everyone). Unfortunately for Connor Reed sees their new assigned case as a perfect opportunity to make his next move in his plan to show everyone how 'useless' the android is. And Connor must suffer through yet another painful ‘malfunction’.

---

Chapter 3: Sensory overload

John and Hank had brought Connor home and John had kept a close vigil over the brown eyed detective for two whole days as he ran every test imaginable to try and identify the cause of the painful muscle spasms the android had suffered through. But despite the tech’s best effort he’d not been able to offer any certain diagnostic. Whatever had caused the error had seemingly disappeared as fast as it had occurred. Best bet was that it’d been a passing malware virus that had somehow managed to not be filtered by Connor’s many firewalls until stasis mode kicked in. But the aftereffects of the attacks still lingered. John had needed to recalibrate all of Connor’s larger muscle groups after he was pulled out of emergency stasis, which had been a slow and yet another painful ordeal for the detective, as he’d needed to stay conscious for the procedure to complete the necessary wide range motion sequences to do so.

Despite technical advice, Connor returned to the precinct after his recalibration three days after the incident. His motions were stiff and more robotic than ever as the synthetic tissue still needed time to heal completely, just like a human would from overexertion. But Connor had insisted to return with the promise to John, Fowler and Hank that he’d only be doing behind the desk work until he was given an all clear for active field duty again by John.

Reed found himself watching with great satisfaction as the android would struggle with basic day to day tasks. One day the Tin Can hadn’t even been able to pull off its own blazer because of the sheer soreness in the newly recalibrated arm and shoulder components. Its pathetic wince as it tried had filled Gavin with great pleasure. But his show was ruined when Miller and Pearson had rushed over to aid the pitiful machine. Miller helping to gently pull the garment all the way off and hanging it on the back of the office chair and Pearson who then ushered the android to sit and proceeded with a 15 minute long shoulder and backrub to ease the worst pain and soreness from the synthetic, but still sensitive muscle groups. Just as Pearson finished with a soft smile and a last comforting stroke across the broad shoulders, officer Lewis walked past and placed an iced coffee flavored bottle of thirium on the android’s desk, offering a reassuring smile and a gentle pad on the shoulder as well. Reed’s teeth grinded as he watched the pitiful plastic prick accept all this unwarranted attention with a thankful look and a quiet thank you to all of its caring colleagues.

Clearly his coworkers had yet to learn that they were wasting their time caring and trusting what was basically a glorified toolbox. Reed rubbed the pocketed remote with his thumb absently then, contemplating on repeating the incident again then and there, but thought better of it. Better to bide his time and choose his next plan of attack carefully. Messing with the thing too often might get him caught and besides, he liked the thought of Tin Can regaining a false security in believing the last error was a one-time thing. Oh, how fun it’d be to break it down slowly and watch people losing faith in the ‘perfect’ machine everyone seemed to think it was.

Finally, a week after the incident Connor was once again feeling more like himself and no longer like one giant, walking bruise. Therefor he’d requested John for a reexamination to determine if he were ready to return to the field as well and was now sitting bare chested on the exam table while the tech ran his tests.

“Take a deep breath for me.” John requested as he kept one palm on Connor’s abdominal and the other between his shoulder blades, feeling the synthetic muscles contract and relax naturally, without and lingering tension or spotting any wincing on Connor’s face as he added a bit of pressure on the exhale.

“Any pain?” He asked anyway.

“No.” Connor answered.

“Hold out your arms for me.” Connor obeyed immediately, extending his arms out in a T shape from his body. John went to stand in front of him and placed one hand firmly on each of the detective’s forearms.

“Resist my pressure.” And pressed down hard.

Connor’s arms didn’t budge the slightest.

“Good! And now the legs.”

Connor stretched out both legs in front of himself and John repeated the test as he pressed on his legs. Again, they didn’t move an inch and Connor showed no signs of discomfort.

“Very good. All your readings are within normal perimeters as well. I believe you’re in all clear again Con. I’ll inform Fowler when I’m done updating you journal.” John said with a soft smile.

Connor returned the soft smile with one of his own as he pulled his white dress shirt back on and began buttoning.

“Thanks John, I really appreciate your help and concern. We’re lucky to have such a skilled technician available to our precinct.”

“Yeah, some technician I am. I couldn’t even figure out what caused your muscle cramps.” John replied sullenly, feeling inadequate for not being able to reassure more firmly that Connor wouldn’t risk suffering from the same malfunction in the future.

“Don’t say that. My diagnostic software is state of the art technology and I couldn’t identify the error either. But whatever it was it’s gone and I have you to thank for my speedy recovery.” Connor was quick to reassure.

“Now stop it!” John pointed strictly with his stylus but couldn’t help the smile forming on his face. “I’m the one who’s supposed to make you feel better! Not the other way around!”

Connor grinned and pulled on his blazer with a quick motion before straightening his tie. “Can’t it go both ways?”

Trying hard but failing miserably in hiding his blush at the combined grin and comment, the technician was quick to return his gaze to the tablet in hand while continuing his notes. “Of course! Yes, well I should get done with this so you can get back to work. I’ll see you soon Con.” And quickly turned around in a fluster only to turn right back again to point with his stylus once more. “But not too soon alright, or I mean.. Not up here like this. Keep safe for once, please?” The tech added softly.

Connor smiled warmly, finding the technician’s concern and care for him was causing a warm feeling spreading throughout his chest, which was illogical. John was a very skilled and compassionate technician, appreciated among all the precinct androids, Connor knew. His treatment of Connor was surely no different than what he offered all his patients. And yet, when the tall blonde looked at him with those strikingly deep blue eyes, attentive mixed with slight concern, like right now, it made Connor feel special, valued.. Significant. Emotions were still kind of new to the deviant, so it was hard to pinpoint exactly why John’s gaze had that effect on him, but he did know it was a pointless train of thought to pursue. Still, he responded the tech’s plea earnestly “I promise I will try, John.”

John’s eyes lit up brightly at the answer and his dimpled smile returned, and the rosy blush seemed to grow a tad darker. He gave a curt nod in responds, before turning to finish his journaling and allow Connor to return to his own work.

As the android excited the elevator to the bullpen Hank immediately looked up from his works, along with several others in the office space, all eager to know if their friend, partner and colleague had recovered properly to return to active duty.

“Well?” Hank asked in a mixed tone of impatient and worry “What’s the verdict kid? You back with us a 100% precent?”

“I am.” Connor confirmed happily. “John gave me an all clear for full return to the field.”

It was as if a collective sigh of relief went through the whole room at the news.

“Thank God, I don’t know how we got by before you Connor. Your real time analysis lab work and ability to run immediate reconstructive scenarios on scene makes cases run so much smoother!” Ben exclaimed loudly and set off a series of muttered affirmations across the space.

“It’ll be nice to have you back in field Con, your DJ skills are missed! Yesterday Lewis got to pick the music enroute to scene, I thought my ears were gonna start bleeding!” officer Brown complained.

“Hey!” Officer Lewis exclaimed in a mock affronted voice.

Reed had to stop himself form not visibly rolling his eyes and sneer as the whole room continued to relish in the ‘good news’, that the deviant was giving a full technical clearing. He still had to try and play the role of redeeming colleague to the thing, but like hell he was going to join the outrageous claims that the plastic prick had been missed or needed on any of his cases. Only good thing was that now that the thing had seemingly recovered completely it was a golden opportunity to take it back down, he just needed an opportunity to strike again.

Just as that thought had crossed the detective’s mind, Fowler excited his glass office and made his way towards the crowd that had gathered around Connor, in long confident strides. His face was unreadable as usual, set in a slightly strict grimace as was custom for the authoritarian Captain. He stopped in his tracks as he reached the assembly. “Connor I just received a report from John that you’d been cleared for full duty.”

Connor stood a bit straighter and more at attention at the approach of his commanding chief. “That’s correct sir.” He affirmed.

“That’s good, but I want to hear it from you yourself before fully reinstating you. Are you sure you’re feeling completely healthy and mended? No one here will think any less of you if you feel like taking a few extra days on the bench.”

“I do sir and I know, but I’m ready to join the force fully again.” Connor answered confidently.

“Well thank fuck, because we have our work cut out for us with this one.” Fowler growled and held up a stack of casefiles in his hand.

He started passing them out to his chosen team as he briefed. “Four people were found dead this morning in a penthouse suite at the Hallman hotel downtown.” Files were handed out to Hank, Connor, Ben, Collins, Miller, Wilson, Pearson, Thomsen, Tina and Reed. “I need a fast process on this people, so I’m sending a large team. I expect results and leads fast, understood?”

“Yes sir!” the ten man group called out collectively before getting ready for dispatch. Reed was trying not to seem too eager, as that kind of behavior was out of character for him, but he could hardly wait to arrive at the scene. He had a feeling this was a perfect opportunity mess with everybody’s misplaced office favorite and he knew just how to do it.

---

As officers had arrived on scene they found all four victims laying close together in the main room of the grand suite, a mix of red and blue blood splattered on most surfaces, they had their work cut out for them. Hank automatically stepped in as leader in command as he was the highest ranked of the group and effectively distributed assignments to the team.

“Alright, Collin and Miller take a walk down the hallways and knock doors to try and find some witnesses, someone is bound to have seen or heard something judging from the mess of this damn crime scene.

“Yes sir.” The two officers answered in unison and excited the penthouse to get to work.

“Wilson and Tina, I want you to go back down to the front desk reception. Ask them if they know anything about our victims and find out if they have any surveillance of the entrance, reception and hallways that we can go through.” Hank continued.

“Right away Lieutenant.” Tina answered but before she went, she caught Reed’s eyes and mouthed a quiet ‘behave!’ discreetly at the detective. Reed merely raised his shoulders and eyebrows slightly as if he had no clue why she would ask that of him. He missed the old Tina, the one who’d laughed at his jokes when he mocked the employed androids at the precinct and once shared many of his viewpoints, maybe not quite as liberal as him, but still it’d been a bond between them. He was saddened to witness his partner and one of his best friends on the force to fall victim to the revolutionary brainwashing saying that android lives were equal to human lives and that the machines had ‘feelings’ and a right to freedom. Most of all he hoped this mission of his would be a step in the right direction to show Tina how wrong these thoughts were and how useless androids really were compared to humans. They were better thought of as tools as before the revolution to make human lives easier, but definitely not equal to them!

Tina and Wilson also disappeared through the door to make their way down to reception. Leaving the last five of the team waiting for instructions.

“Connor and Ben you take care of what forensics you can on scene.” Hank continued, Connor being an obvious choice as he could run most samples right away, teamed with Ben because he had a natural knack for the field as well.

“Pearson, Thomsen and Reed, us four are gonna work the rest of the rooms. You all know the drill, mark anything out the ordinary, report back to me if you have any leads to pursue.” Hank finished his instruction with his gruff voice. Everyone spread out to carry out their own orders.

Reed suppressed his wicked grin, so excited to carry out the next phase of his plan. He’d prepared himself well and made sure he could navigate the settings he wanted to mess with on the remote discreetly from his jacket pocket without looking, so it wouldn’t be obvious what he was doing. He had to be careful with so many people around, especially Anderson. He had the feeling Hank was the only one on the force who wasn’t fooled by his fake apology to the Tin Can and he wasn’t about to let his fun end by getting caught red handed! Anderson had walked to the master bedroom at the other end of the suite while Pearson was checking the rest of the massive living room and Thomsen went to the check the bathroom. Reed eyed the spiraling staircase that led to a loft under a glass ceiling that housed an extra lounge area, overseeing most of the ground floor, it was perfect. He ascended the staircase at leisured pace, watching as Ben and the walking plastic lab knelt at the first victim, a young man sprawled out on a large beige carpet. When he reached the top Reed kept close to the edge of the loft and pretended to be busy examining a bookcase filled with various books and decorations. His spot offered him a perfect surveillance point to the rest of the suite, especially the Tin Can.

“Alright kid, tell me what you see, your eyes always catch much more than I can.” Ben grunted as he and Connor looked over the dead young man on the ground laying between them. Connor’s eyes roamed over the body and Ben could just barely make out the slight change of the pupils nestled in the warm brown iris as Connor’s eyes scanned and zoomed in on noteworthy details.

“The victim identifies as 26 year old Collin Hart, an assistant producer to the D-Kay recordlabel located on Canfield St downtown.” Connor was quick to offer. “He has multiple defensive wounds on his arms indicating he struggled with either a single or possible multiple attackers. His clothes have stains that suggest he hasn’t bathed of washed up for at least three days. It’s possible this is a group of people who’ve been on a party bender, known to occur in his industry’s environment that have somehow ended badly, but I’ll await further speculations until I have gathered more evidence. First I’ll have to determine if there’s any alcohol and/or drugs in his and the other victims’ systems.” He followed up.

“Well, I don’t think I can remember a time your hunches have steered us wrong. Do what you gotta do and make your tests. Meanwhile I’ll start to mark what evidence I can and start a scene report.” Ben offered, standing back up with a groan as his old knees creaked.

“Yes, a good place to start.” Connor agreed.

“Let the show begin.” Reed thought giddily. He pulled up the remote, careful to keep it hidden as he quickly established the connection before choosing; [Oral analysis range // Adjust depth of analysis on oral test samples // Adjust sensitivity below]

[Oral sensors // Current setting 35%]

Just like last time Reed was able to adjust a bar to determine the sensitivity of the Tin Can’s oral analysis sensors and how comprehensively an analysis was going to be. The android had just dipped two fingers in a small blood sample and was about to place it on its’ tongue as was its’ normal disgusting procedure.

Reed quickly adjusted the setting as high as it could go.

[Oral sensors // Current setting 100% // WARNING current setting will require an excess processor and power usage // Nonvital functions will be down prioritized // Risk of longterm damage to model]

Reed smiled. “Perfect.”

Connor placed his two fingers at his tongue and gently licked his sample, expecting only to receive his desired information on blood type as well as alcohol and drug content. But as soon as the microscopic sample touched his tongue, he was immediately bombarded with an onslaught of test results;

C̭͓͚̝͓̰ͩ̅̇̎o̶̗̞̦̣̺ͧ̊mp̴̻̝̔̽o̶̥̗̠̦̔ṇ͉̪͉̤͕̼̫̃̀͟e̅ͮ͐҉͓̜̩̙n͔͓ͤ̕ţ̣̼̗̻̪̯̉̇ ̦̫̹͕̜̤͙ͩ̾̇͘ͅN͒̆͏̹̠̞̭̬̣̻ő̩̻̻̠͓̜̞̝ͬ͊́͡ȓ̛̖͇̬ͤͥm͎̫͕̱̻̮̓ͩ͡ͅa̝̖̭ͣͭ̓͒͡l̲̠̪̭̺͈̈́̐̒ ̵͚̳̰͇̉̿ͅr̫̱̆ͅȃ̷̠̮̫̹̱̀̾n̈́̋̃g̛̻̠̬̘̜̋̏e̪̘̭̓ͅ ̷̖̬̤ͭ͂ͩ͒r̞̲̬̤͆ͫͮ̕e̓҉̙̰̱̥͉ͅd̎ͤ̊̅͏͕̯̗̙̻͙̩ b͖̬͔͔̱̠̞̌͟ͅĺ̘̼̤̙͙̩͎́̊͊͟o̜̼̪̯̽͒͡o̰̮͍̳͓̰̎̇ͩ͞ḍ̰̠̞͎̰͗̽̑͐͟ͅ ̧̺͔ͣ̂̎ͅc͔͓̝̮͈͑͋e̓͌̉̾҉̰͚̖̭͈̝l̛̗̻̤̟̄̈́l̴̥̳̘̫̳̫͕̮͑̾̉s̙̺̑͌͟ͅ ̩͇̬̪̥̘̗̲ͨ͘(̨͈̼͕̗̹̱͇̊̈ͦc̞̦͂ê̞̻̭̅̄͊͝l̘̲̻̼̭̦͎̄͞l̷̪͍̼̟̰͍̒ͭ̓s̛͓̠̪̠̦̩͚͉ͧ ̩͉͕ͩ̎͝r̃̃̈͏̜̭̲̩͇ḙ̵̫̙͉̼̲̻ͨ͂sͤ̇͒҉̺͎̺̲͍͚p̥̞͚͈͆͜o̷͓̞̫̅ͦ̌̆n̠͉̅̾̚͘s̡̳̯̘͚̮̓̌ͣͪĩ̢̼͓̦̳b̙̮͓̜̳͎̥̮̽ͤ̒͠ḽ͓͔͚͉̼̀ͩ͝e̡̟̙̻̤̖̮͔͌ ̴̬̺̹̺͓̉ͮ̽̂f͚̞͎̞̬̯̫̱͆̍͘o͚̙̟̻̳͗͌̌͞r͙͈͇͐ ̋̀͏͍̠͖̩̬c̶̦̬̿̄̓̆a̞̳̥̙͐̓ͪ̕r̥̞ͪ̐͟r̨͚̟̤͇͔̎ŷ̼̜͓̖̗̙̦ͭ͝ͅi̛͍̗̳̺ͥn̹̣̳̍̇̀ͨg̴̖̞̗̲͔̹̳̀̆ͬ ̇͑҉̜̼̣̗̦ȯ̡̫͈͙̎͊̄x̺͍̫̬͈̳̥̩̂̈͟y͐҉̝̗͚g̦̱̬̺̟̹̲͈̉́͘e̴̱͔͇̺̦ͪ͋ͨͦn̖̳̙̼͉͈̆͗̍͞ ͬ҉̰̭̻̩͇t͎̳̤̣̭͉̲ͩ͐͞h͕͓̐ͪ̊͆ro̢̼̣̪͕̭ͫͭ͒̈ũ̳̯͇̖̹͔͍g̠͓͕̤̜̳͙̼̉̐̕h͌͏̞̝̘͎o̶̳͓ͤͧ̃̚ͅų͕͙͈͓͉ͫ̏ͧt͉̘̝͌ ̜͇̫͖̣ͧ̊ͣ͝t̤̻̹̞̺͇͇́ͩ͢h̴͚͔̟͈ͯ̍̀̉e͖͚̫̭̪̓ͭͪ͞ ̫̭͙̆b̖̹͕̻̓̌̔͘o̚͏͓͙d̠̦̦̦̭͓̩̝̏͂̔̊͢y̯͚̖̗̝͑͐̆)̛̳͕̝̹͓͚̫ͮ̊̃͑ͅ ̉̂

↳m̛̱̝̣͔͋̎ͦͅa̵̬̮͍̣ͩl̨̠͖͍͒̉̽͛e̺͓̮͖͎̋͛̕:̴̺͚͚̝̪͈̑̾̿ ̷̖̩͍̜̊ͫ͒̃ͅ4͎̙ͭͮ͌͝.̶̦̭͈̻̩̾ͣ3̭̲̞̜̹ͮ̈̊ͅ�̢͔̳̅ͤͫ̉�͊͌͏̺̟͇̲̱̮ͅ�5̳̘͓̹̻͖͔̙͐̓̓̂̕.̽̇͏̹̲͖̹̥͉̫9 ͎̺͍̞͓̪ͮ͗̎ͯ͝m̺̙̫̫̃ͩ̿͟ͅi͙̮̠̖͕̠̿͜l̟̠̯̰͕̗̝̤ͮ͌̾̌͟l̶̠̣͆ͩ͛i̍͌͋ͣ҉̤̭͍̠͓̻͇ǫ̭̠̭͇̫͉ͨn̻̱̣̻̤͑͛/̮̯͍͛̆̏̄͞ͅm̧͈̲̣͗͛m̡̭̯͓̖̰ͭͫͤ͒3͓̙̟̐͢;̟͈̱̺̝̪̍͂:̲̱̺͍̱̱̼͈̌͘ ̬̺̭̣̠̪ͬ̅͆̚̕3̧̱͇͚̰͈ͬ.͎̩͗̅̐͠5̡͖̠͎̤̆̅�͖̠̟ͬ͠�̛̹̣̭̟̼̏̑�̢͔͍͖͔̬̗̬̓5̷̭̯̣̫̬̹̉ͤ.̦̼̑ͨ̔ͬ͘ͅ5̛̲̹̱͚͑̑ ̶̗̭̻̮̺̻̪̲̅̋̈m̊ͫ҉̱͓̤̻̰ĭ҉̰̺̭̘̗̳l̴͖͍̮͈̝̓̇̿l̟͈̱̫̺̺͖̋͋͒̏i͕̖̪̩͔̞̙̟ͭͩ͠oń̹͓͉͈̜̗̰͇͘/̷̩̜̟͑͗̑͌m̡͈̳̥̰͈̳̿ͧm͔͙̏̐ͫ͢3ͩ́͏̮̭͎ ̵͓̖̻̹͙̮͆̐͐ͅw̎̋́ͮ҉̟̳h̴̤̜̙̫ͥ̈ȉ̠͖̖̪̠͍͕̏̍̕t̛͔̦̝̂eͦ́̐͏͙̬̖̘ b͓̳͕͈̪͇͙̩̅̋ͪͨ͟lͩ͂҉̯̮o͙̘͓͇̱̖̍ͪ̈͝ò͈̝͈̪ͭ̔̓͘ḍ͚ ̢̪̰̠͉̻ͨc͎̲̬ͫͬé̢̫͙ͯ̉l͇̞͉͚̃̓͠l͓̞͚̻͈̯̣̆ͩ̓s̛̯̲͕̅͛́ͧ ̲̰̫̠̖̍̕(͍̻̃͌̈̄͞i̷̱̟͚̞͙̦̊ͫ̅m̶̯͖͍̎ͦͭ͊

m̼̮̳̙̼̓ͫͨu̮̣̱̱̝̘͙͍ͭͨ͛̊͝n̛̙̯̙͖̄̚ͅe̡̬̳̝̺̦͍ͩͅ ̫͈͇̀̾͠ṣ̝̖̖̺̮̫ͤ͒̿̕y̶̮̙̳̰̾͊s̱̟͉̯̝̩͖ͪ̿ͭ͘tͬͫͮͬ͏͕̪̰̘͚̥é̴̻͇̭ͅm̢͔͓̏́̇͑ ͇̻̥̯̺ͩc̛̖͖̤̪̱̮͗̑ͩẹ̟̯̤͗l̢̲͇̼ͬ̔̐l̥̞͈͕͓ͫ̋͡s̰̟̗̠̝̬͙͍̍ͫ̐̑͝ ̛̩͙̄̄͐į̼͇̟̲̝͖ͬ́n͇͙̫͍ͬ̔̚͘ ̹̩͇̍͜t̶̯͎̟͎̺̭̽̂̃h̭̩̖̝͒͊e̵̪͉̟̘̫̖̝̚ ̢̩͖̙͇͒ͭb̴̬͚͖̘͔̲͇̔ͬ̽̈́ͅlͫ̂͒҉̣̤o̸̲͈͔̦̱͖͑͛ͯ́o͈̹̦͛̔͘d̰̻̼̞̣̩ͫͣ̎)̺̮̺͉͚̣̅ͅ ̣̘̰́̓4̫͍̥̹ͤ̾ͤ̔͞,̌ͦ͛҉̟̩͈̣̱5̴̬͖͉̹̤̖̻̟̅0̶̩͚̳̖̝̀ͣ0̭̲̣̩̽ͥͯ͝�̫͉̫ͫ̿͠�̛̮͍ͣ�̵͚͚̹͌ͥ̓̒1̵͉̖͍͚̏̊ͯ1̸̜͓͈̾̈́ͣ͑,͚̤̞̜̖̥͋͆͡0̞̤̗̅͂͌ͨ͜0̰͙̪̮̦̩ͭ̿̒͞0̍̉ͩ̃҉̝̺͎̦/̺̯̔̚m̩̩͓̘ͬͮ̆̆͜m̠͍͚̿ͭ̏͢3̨̝̟̘̦͓͈͖̀̿̈́͒ ̥̯̻̙ͯ̉͆͞p̳͓͌̔́̎͢l͈͎̫̘̙̩̎͒ͦ͜a̫̯̮̍͢t͉̱̞̺̺ͥ̐̉̓e̓̋͏͖̗͉̳͉̦l̞̹̪ͦ͟ȩ̟͕̟͓͍̬̙͚͑̿̓̚ţ̝̣̫̲̾s̴̫͗ͥ̍̆ͅ ͔̖̘̫͛͘(̢̺̱̟ͥͪ̄͐t̛̼̤̥͕̹̹͙̱͐ͮ̂h̭̗͇͗͗͢ͅͅē̲̖̘̳͙͚̼̗ ̛̼͈͎̦̯͇̫͊̀̌s̺̪ͬ͛ͧ̚͡ṵ͉̠̦̖̩̖̯͒͋̉b̓̌ͮ̀s͇͍͑͐ͯt̡̼̻̩̹̞̆̌a͚͕̭̲̮̥̭ͨ̌ͣ̎͞ͅṇ̢̰͗͌̄ͅc͕̩͓͖͉͔̱ͦ͒ͯͧ͘e̢͇̝̱̩̊̏͊s̢̞̭̎ ͧ͆ͦ҉̺̺͍̖̫͓t̷̼̟̥ͯͤ̌̄h̨̠͓̒͌̍a̻̻̩͔ͨ̉͝ț͉̹̜̦̈́̽ͫ͝ ̰̬͚̖̝̟̏̍̿̐͢ͅc̩͎̰͚̣̎͋ͯ͡o͖̭̞̺̼͍͚͗́͘n̵̼̪̣̺ͭt̫̠̖͇̖̱̠̹ͮͯ̀͡r̛̲͍̘̳̝̞̲ͧͩõ̼̞̞͕̤̑̓̒͝l̨͔͈̼̺̤̱̮̺͋ ̻̰̞̟̺ͩ̅͞ͅt̶̬̖͓̼̣̝͚͌ͦͣ̌h̼̜̟͎ͥ͟e̎̅̍̀҉̳͍͕̼̠͕̜ ̙̰̊͟c̟͕̖̙̤͐͐̒̚͡l͚͕̗̙͓̺ͮͮͦ͠o̡̝͔̻̔ͪ̏͂t̠͖̫̖̼̖̯͛͡tin̰̞͎̲̝ͩ̑͊̿͞g͙̤͚͖̲̲͚̯ͨ͡ ̡̩̩ͪ̊̍o̵̜͙̜̦͒̌f̺̣̩̖̹̑͡ͅͅ ̵͈̻̱̲̉̈ͣͫͅ%

t̴̖̪̰̄͂h̙̞͍̹̓͌͌͡e̛͎̜̘̪͈̭͌ͫ ̷̼͈ͮb͇̫̰̦̽̎͑̉l̛͇̳̙̮̳͎̱͐ͅoo̪̘̻̰͎̫̻̿̓̆͢d̺̮̼ͧͩ)̛̪͓̦̜̮̑ͦ̋ ͚͇̪̱͈̟̻͋͘1̢̩̱̱ͧ̓5̛͍̼̖̬̙̣̇ͤ̎0̋ͭ͏̤͙,̮̰̼̠ͣ͛̈́0̷̼̦̳̟̹̼̿0̷̻̝̣̟̟ͣ̒0̡̺͚̃�̶͈̗̼̦̉̏�̭͈̖̭̘͔̥̅�͔͔̊̂͜4̢͈̟͇̪̉0̴̲͖͇̖̖̽̍0̼̭̞̝̏͂͆͢,̦͈̝̏̊̓ͨ͞0͉̪͔͍̝ͧ̕0̠̗̰̦̄̃ͤ0͇̼̤̥̮͇̭̄ͅ/̣͓̭͕̙̥͐͐͑̿͜m̻̱̆ͫ͠m̛̝͚̻͖ͥ̍̈ͫͅ3̵̟̟̝̭̘͎͉̰̂ ̧͖̪̝͉͓̭ͣ̋́ͯͅḩ͔͈̳̈́̿̌é̷̱͈̲͎m̢̞̫̲̫̠̱ͤ͛ȍ҉͈͉͇͍̱̦͙g̺̥̒̃͐ͨ͢l̲̱̗̹̟̘̗͒͡o̡̼̘̊̏b̖͎̝̩̘ͫ̊ͥ͜i̢̙̤͇͇̩̻̹͎ͪn͉̤̬̝͖͚̲ͫ̉̅̇͢ ̪͍̗̼͈̞̪͉̉͒ͥ͞(̢̠̲̇̚p͓̮̝̘ͤ͞r̾͊͌̃͏̳͍̖̟̯ō̵̳̬̰̳̉t̻̥̜̮̦̿ͣ̽̌͢ḛ̰̘̪̞͈͂͊͡ị̖̞͎̋͘ṉ̮̯̈͐͆͟ ̡̩̹̦͈̤̹̾̀w̴͓̟̚ͅiͪ̓͊̉͏̟͍͕̞̫͇ẗ̡̘̱̜͎́͒ͯͅh͖̟̠̥͖̩ͤ͠ḭ̖͚̪̤̗͐͊͡ͅn̹͖̪̎̕ ̖̙̫̤̓̀ͯ͠ť̡͚͚̝͓̭̓̍ͬh͙͚̖͖̗̗͇ͭ͊̅ȅ̑҉̜͍͍̣ ͚̹̣͋͝r̅̊̆͏̩̱̮̹̪̥ͅe̢̖̲̤̮̫͒̋d̵̞̪̼͍̗͍͍̟̔͑ͫ͊ ̴͍̘͚̰͓ͧͅb̛̪͇͍̋̐ļ̯̝͇̟̔̾̃́o͙̣̜̩͖̓̽ͪȯ̶̱̭̙͍̖̤̳̏d̡̻̥̩̠̎̆ͦ ̡̺͕̱̣̯̹͇̻͌͋̅̚c͕̘͉̳̫̩͚̓ͫ̃͠e̳̬̚͝l̢̪͍̱̝̣̝͚̉̈͋l̹̘̲̯͖̠͐ͥ͡s̷̝̰͔̭̪͓͕̼̔ ͧͮ͒̏҉̝͖͇̟͉ṯ̶̟͓̬̠̹͛͛̚h̰̪̳ͨͯ̍ͫ͝a͎͕͉ͥ̅͢ͅt̷̼̯̫̹͖̋̄ͥͫ ͍̦ͫ̑c͖͍̯̲͚͓̽͜a̡͙̞͍̜͓͂͗̓r̷͇̟͖̤̻̣̗ͦͅr͉̣ͨ͑i̢̮̩̣̺͍ͪ́͊e̟̫͔̦͚̱͖̠ͩ͑s̟͔̒͝ ̶̬͍̟͚̺̠̻̋͋o̢͎̺̹̘̗̟̟̘̊̆̉͊x̖̪͊̓̀͠y͇̝̙ͫ͠g̢͓͉̤͎̹̟̈́̂ͅeñ̰̣̤̙͐ͬ̈́͘ ͈̱͓̖̠͔̓̍͜t̅̆̉̊҉̤͍̰̥o̷̙͓͓͓͖͓̤͒ͯ͋ ̷͖̖̜̟̿o̦̼̖̻̭̖͔ͩ̏̈́͡r͔̮̂͢ĝ̡͚̖̣̅a̧̤͖̘̗̻͉ͤ̿̾͗n͙̓͐̒͡ͅs͌̇̔̉҉̝͔͙̭̮͖̺ ̨̻̭̳̱̙̘ͨ̒̈a̵͕̞̪͉̯ͩṉ̵̩̐̈́̓ͧd̷͙̫̥ͬ̆̒ ̷̻͖̥͓̼̓̅t̟̬̝̳̮̤̦̐͒ͦ̚͟i̺̺̝̫ͨ̾̍s̬͔̹̞̳͔̹̓͞ͅs̻͚͔̫̼̋ͬ̅͢uĕ̶̪͇̪̯͆ͮ̓s̜͖̍͞,̶̞̥̳̾͂ͤ͂ ̻͈̣̭̤̩̟̎ͩ͟ḁ̦͚̘̠̝͋ͪ̔̃n̻͇͖̯̳̙͍͕̑ͬ͟d̘̖̭͉̭̭̘͑ͮ̄͆͜ ̧̱̮̺̮̜̀c̛͖̺̗͙͚̑̈ͧͅȧ̯̘͔̤͚̙̝̓͟r̀b̷̞̝̖̺̙ͦ̔o̷̺̟͚̳̒ͥͯ̈́ń̡̺͉̘̬̰̹͊ͅ ̩̘̘́͋ͣͨ̕d̵̙̟̗̬̦̰̬̤͆͑i̵̞̮͎̖͊o̢͓͉͍̫̲̞̮̲͆ͪ̅ͥxi͓̮̞̮̲͚̹͊͘d̷̗̳̭̦̓̔́ͭě̦̯̗̤̹̥̗̊̇͞ ̧̙̫̥̲̤̊b̛̘̤̭ͥͧ̑͛a̵͓̬̬̫̱ͦć͚̰͔ͥͫ̕k̞͓͌̕ ̛̭̜̼̻̥̘͓ͤ̿t̻̟̪̊̍ͮ͡o̜̼̮̮̣͌̒ͫ̎͘ ̖̬̋̈͝t̛͕̱͓͔͙̙̘ͫͨ́ͤh̡̫̲̩̞̻̄e̛̠̳̣ͯ̃ ͍͈͎̰̣͈̲̯͒͘l̙̳̬̫ͯ̉͠u̦͓͙̤̮ͭ̈́ͥ̇̕n̶͇͎͕̠̲̖̯̓̾ͅgs̬͈̱̍ͧ̎̍̕)̬̠̎̕ ͓͚̳̠̒͂́ͮ͞ͅm̜̳̬͙͈̥͓͊̕a̢̩̗̖ͥ̏l̇ͩ̚͏͎̩̻̥͎͙e̵͈̘͇̿͒ͩͯ:̷͕͎ͮ̿ ͐͒ͩ͏͎͉͔͈1̸̘̭̥̤̞̪̭̎3̛͎̠̘̭͓̱̏̔́ͦ.̟͙̦̜̫ͩͫ̓5̼͕͙̞ͦ̍̊͊͜�̶̯̫̳̐̔�̪̮̺̩̤̦̉ͭͫ̓͟�̛̠̟̿ͫ

a̵̬̮͍̣ͩl̨̠͖͍͒̉̽͛e̺͓̮͖͎̋͛̕:̴̺͚͚̝̪͈̑̾̿ ̷̖̩͍̜̊ͫ͒̃ͅ4͎̙ͭͮ͌͝.̶̦̭͈̻̩̾ͣ3̭̲̞̜̹ͮ̈̊ͅ�̢͔̳̅ͤͫ̉�͊͌͏̺̟͇̲̱̮ͅ�5̳̘͓̹̻͖͔̙͐̓̓̂̕.̽̇͏̹̲͖̹̥͉̫9 ͎̺͍̞͓̪ͮ͗̎ͯ͝m̺̙̫̫̃ͩ̿͟ͅi͙̮̠̖͕̠̿͜l̟̠̯̰͕̗̝̤ͮ͌̾̌͟l̶̠̣͆ͩ͛i̍͌͋ͣ҉̤̭͍̠͓̻͇ǫ̭̠̭͇̫͉ͨn̻̱̣̻̤͑͛/̮̯͍͛̆̏̄͞ͅ:̲̱̺͍̱̱̼͈̌͘ ̬̺̭̣̠̪ͬ̅͆̚̕3̧̱͇͚̰͈ͬ.͎̩͗̅̐͠5̡͖̠͎̤̆̅�͖̠̟ͬ͠�̛̹̣̭̟̼̏̑�̢͔͍͖͔̬̗̬̓5̷̭̯̣̫̬̹̉ͤ.̦̼̑ͨ̔ͬ͘ͅ5̛̲̹̱͚͑̑ ̶̗̭̻̮̺̻̪̲̅̋̈m̊ͫ҉̱͓̤̻̰ĭ҉̰̺̭̘̗̳l̴͖͍̮͈̝̓̇̿l̟͈̱̫̺̺͖̋͋͒̏i͕̖̪̩͔̞̙̟ͭͩ͠oń̹͓͉͈̜̗̰͇͘/̷̩̜̟͑͗̑͌m̡͈̳̥̰͈̳̿ͧm͔͙̏̐ͫ͢3ͩ́͏̮̭͎ ̵͓̖̻̹͙̮͆̐͐ͅw̎̋́ͮ҉̟̳h̴̤̜̙̫ͥ̈ȉ̠͖̖̪̠͍͕̏̍̕t̛͔̦̝̂eͦ́̐͏͙̬̖̘ b͓̳͕͈̪͇͙̩̅̋ͪͨ͟lͩ͂҉̯̮o͙̘͓͇̱̖̍ͪ̈͝ò͈̝͈̪ͭ̔̓͘ḍ͚ ̢̪̰̠͉̻ͨc͎̲̬ͫͬé̢̫͙ͯ̉l͇̞͉͚̃̓͠l͓̞͚̻͈̯̣̆ͩ̓s̛̯̲͕̅͛́ͧ ̲̰̫̠̖̍̕(͍̻̃͌̈̄͞i̷̱̟͚̞͙̦̊ͫ̅m̶̯͖͍̎ͦͭ͊

m̼̮̳̙̼̓ͫͨu̮̣̱̱̝̘͙͍ͭͨ͛̊͝n̛̙̯̙͖̄̚ͅe̡̬̳̝̺̦͍ͩͅ ̫͈͇̀̾͠ṣ̝̖̖̺̮̫ͤ͒̿̕y̶̮̙̳̰̾͊s̱̟͉̯̝̩͖ͪ̿ͭ͘tͬͫͮͬ͏͕̪̰̘͚̥é̴̻͇̭ͅm̢͔͓̏́̇͑ ͇̻̥̯̺ͩc̛̖͖̤̪̱̮͗̑ͩẹ̟̯̤͗l̢̲͇̼ͬ̔̐l̥̞͈͕͓ͫ̋͡s̰̟̗̠̝̬͙͍̍ͫ̐̑͝ ̛̩͙̄̄͐į̼͇̟̲̝͖ͬ́n͇͙̫͍ͬ̔̚͘ ̹̩͇̍͜t̶̯͎̟͎̺̭̽̂̃h̭̩̖̝͒͊e̵̪͉̟̘̫̖̝̚ ̢̩͖̙͇͒ͭb̴̬͚͖̘͔̲͇̔ͬ̽̈́ͅlͫ̂͒҉̣̤o̸̲͈͔̦̱͖͑͛ͯ́o͈̹̦͛̔͘d̰̻̼̞̣̩ͫͣ̎)̺̮̺͉͚̣̅ͅ ̣̘̰́̓4̫͍̥̹ͤ̾ͤ̔͞,̌ͦ͛҉̟̩͈̣̱5̴̬͖͉̹̤̖̻̟̅0̶̩͚̳̖̝̀ͣ0̭̲̣̩̽ͥͯ͝�̫͉̫ͫ̿͠�̛̮͍ͣ�̵͚͚̹͌ͥ̓̒1̵͉̖͍͚̏̊ͯ1̸̜͓͈̾̈́ͣ͑,͚̤̞̜̖̥͋͆͡0̞̤̗̅͂͌ͨ͜0̰͙̪̮̦̩ͭ̿̒͞0̍̉ͩ̃҉̝̺͎̦/̺̯̔̚m̩̩͓̘ͬͮ̆̆͜m̠͍͚̿ͭ̏͢3̨̝̟̘̦͓͈͖̀̿̈́͒ ̥̯̻̙ͯ̉͆͞p̳͓͌̔́̎͢l͈͎̫̘̙̩̎͒ͦ͜a̫̯̮̍͢t͉̱̞̺̺ͥ̐̉̓e̓̋͏͖̗͉̳͉̦l̞̹̪ͦ͟ȩ̟͕̟͓͍̬̙͚͑̿̓̚ţ̝̣̫̲̾s̴̫͗ͥ̍̆ͅ ͔̖̘̫͛͘(̢̺̱̟ͥͪ̄͐t̛̼̤̥͕̹̹͙̱͐ͮ̂h̭̗͇͗͗͢ͅͅē̲̖̘̳͙͚̼̗ ̛̼͈͎̦̯͇̫͊̀̌s̺̪ͬ͛ͧ̚͡ṵ͉̠̦̖̩̖̯͒͋̉b̓̌ͮ̀s͇͍͑͐ͯt̡̼̻̩̹̞̆̌a͚͕̭̲̮̥̭ͨ̌ͣ̎͞ͅṇ̢̰͗͌̄ͅc͕̩͓͖͉͔̱ͦ͒ͯͧ͘e̢͇̝̱̩̊̏͊s̢̞̭̎ ͧ͆ͦ҉̺̺͍̖̫͓t̷̼̟̥ͯͤ̌̄h̨̠͓̒͌̍a̻̻̩͔ͨ̉͝ț͉̹̜̦̈́̽ͫ͝ ̰̬͚̖̝̟̏̍̿̐͢ͅc̩͎̰͚̣̎͋ͯ͡o͖̭̞̺̼͍͚͗́͘n̵̼̪̣̺ͭt̫̠̖͇̖̱̠̹ͮͯ̀͡r̛̲͍̘̳̝̞̲ͧͩõ̼̞̞͕̤̑̓̒͝l̨͔͈̼̺̤̱̮̺͋ ̻̰̞̟̺ͩ̅͞ͅt̶̬̖͓̼̣̝͚͌ͦͣ̌h̼̜̟͎ͥ͟e̎̅̍̀҉̳͍͕̼̠͕̜ ̙̰̊͟c̟͕̖̙̤͐͐̒̚͡l͚͕̗̙͓̺ͮͮͦ͠o̡̝͔̻̔ͪ̏͂t̠͖̫̖̼̖̯͛͡tin̰̞͎̲̝ͩ̑͊̿͞g͙̤͚͖̲̲͚̯ͨ͡ ̡̩̩ͪ̊̍o̵̜͙̜̦͒̌f̺̣̩̖̹̑͡ͅͅ ̵͈̻̱̲̉̈ͣͫͅ%↳m̛̱̝̣͔͋̎ͦͅa̵̬̮͍̣ͩl̨̠͖͍͒̉̽͛e̺͓̮͖͎̋͛̕:̴̺͚͚̝̪͈̑̾̿ ̷̖̩͍̜̊ͫ͒̃ͅ4͎̙ͭͮ͌͝.̶̦̭͈̻̩̾ͣ3̭̲̞̜̹ͮ̈̊ͅ�̢͔̳̅ͤͫ̉�͊͌͏̺̟͇̲̱̮ͅ�5̳̘͓̹̻͖͔̙͐̓̓̂̕.̽̇͏̹̲͖̹̥͉̫9 ͎̺͍̞͓̪ͮ͗̎ͯ͝m̺̙̫̫̃ͩ̿͟ͅi͙̮̠̖͕̠̿͜l̟̠̯̰͕̗̝̤ͮ͌̾̌͟l̶̠̣͆ͩ͛i̍͌͋ͣ҉̤̭͍̠͓̻͇ǫ̭̠̭͇̫͉ͨn̻̱̣̻̤͑͛/̮̯͍͛̆̏̄͞ͅm̧͈̲̣͗͛m̡̭̯͓̖̰ͭͫͤ͒3͓̙̟̐͢;̟͈̱̺̝̪̍͂:̲̱̺͍̱̱̼͈̌͘ ̬̺̭̣̠̪ͬ̅͆̚̕3̧̱͇͚̰͈ͬ.͎̩͗̅̐͠5̡͖̠͎̤̆̅�͖̠̟ͬ͠�̛̹̣̭̟̼̏̑�̢͔͍͖͔̬̗̬̓5̷̭̯̣̫̬̹̉ͤ.̦̼̑ͨ̔ͬ͘ͅ5̛̲̹̱͚͑̑ ̶̗̭̻̮̺̻̪̲̅̋̈m̊ͫ҉̱͓̤̻̰ĭ҉̰̺̭̘̗̳l̴͖͍̮͈̝̓̇̿l̟͈̱̫̺̺͖̋͋͒̏i͕̖̪̩͔̞̙̟ͭͩ͠oń̹͓͉͈̜̗̰͇͘/̷̩̜̟͑͗̑͌m̡͈̳̥̰͈̳̿ͧm͔͙̏̐ͫ͢3ͩ́͏̮̭͎ ̵͓̖̻̹͙̮͆̐͐ͅw̎̋́ͮ҉̟̳h̴̤̜̙̫ͥ̈ȉ̠͖̖̪̠͍͕̏̍̕t̛͔̦̝̂eͦ́̐͏͙̬̖̘ b͓̳͕͈̪͇͙̩̅̋ͪͨ͟lͩ͂҉̯̮o͙̘͓͇̱̖̍ͪ̈͝ò͈̝͈̪ͭ̔̓͘ḍ͚ ̢̪̰̠͉̻ͨc͎̲̬ͫͬé̢̫͙ͯ̉l͇̞͉͚̃̓͠l͓̞͚̻͈̯̣̆ͩ̓s̛̯̲͕̅͛́ͧ ̲̰̫̠̖̍̕(͍̻̃͌̈̄͞i̷̱̟͚̞͙̦̊ͫ̅m̶̯͖͍̎ͦͭ͊

m̼̮̳̙̼̓ͫͨu̮̣̱̱̝̘͙͍ͭͨ͛̊͝n̛̙̯̙͖̄̚ͅe̡̬̳̝̺̦͍ͩͅ ̫͈͇̀̾͠ṣ̝̖̖̺̮̫ͤ͒̿̕y̶̮̙̳̰̾͊s̱̟͉̯̝̩͖ͪ̿ͭ͘tͬͫͮͬ͏͕̪̰̘͚̥é̴̻͇̭ͅm̢͔͓̏́̇͑ ͇̻̥̯̺ͩc̛̖͖̤̪̱̮͗̑ͩẹ̟̯̤͗l̢̲͇̼ͬ̔̐l̥̞͈͕͓ͫ̋͡s̰̟̗̠̝̬͙͍̍ͫ̐̑͝ ̛̩͙̄̄͐į̼͇̟̲̝͖ͬ́n͇͙̫͍ͬ̔̚͘ ̹̩͇̍͜t̶̯͎̟͎̺̭̽̂̃h̭̩̖̝͒͊e̵̪͉̟̘̫̖̝̚ ̢̩͖̙͇͒ͭb̴̬͚͖̘͔̲͇̔ͬ̽̈́ͅlͫ̂͒҉̣̤o̸̲͈͔̦̱͖͑͛ͯ́o͈̹̦͛̔͘d̰̻̼̞̣̩ͫͣ̎)̺̮̺͉͚̣̅ͅ ̣̘̰́̓4̫͍̥̹ͤ̾ͤ̔͞,̌ͦ͛҉̟̩͈̣̱5̴̬͖͉̹̤̖̻̟̅0̶̩͚̳̖̝̀ͣ0̭̲̣̩̽ͥͯ͝�̫͉̫ͫ̿͠�̛̮͍ͣ�̵͚͚̹͌ͥ̓̒1̵͉̖͍͚̏̊ͯ1̸̜͓͈̾̈́ͣ͑,͚̤̞̜̖̥͋͆͡0̞̤̗̅͂͌ͨ͜0̰͙̪̮̦̩ͭ̿̒͞0̍̉ͩ̃҉̝̺͎̦/̺̯̔̚m̩̩͓̘ͬͮ̆̆͜m̠͍͚̿ͭ̏͢3̨̝̟̘̦͓͈͖̀̿̈́͒ ̥̯̻̙ͯ̉͆͞p̳͓͌̔́̎͢l͈͎̫̘̙̩̎͒ͦ͜a̫̯̮̍͢t͉̱̞̺̺ͥ̐̉̓e̓̋͏͖̗͉̳͉̦l̞̹̪ͦ͟ȩ̟͕̟͓͍̬̙͚͑̿̓̚ţ̝̣̫̲̾s̴̫͗ͥ̍̆ͅ ͔̖̘̫͛͘(̢̺̱̟ͥͪ̄͐t̛̼̤̥͕̹̹͙̱͐ͮ̂h̭̗͇͗͗͢ͅͅē̲̖̘̳͙͚̼̗ ̛̼͈͎̦̯͇̫͊̀̌s̺̪ͬ͛ͧ̚͡ṵ͉̠̦̖̩̖̯͒͋̉b̓̌ͮ̀s͇͍͑͐ͯt̡̼̻̩̹̞̆̌a͚͕̭̲̮̥̭ͨ̌ͣ̎͞ͅṇ̢̰͗͌̄ͅc͕̩͓͖͉͔̱ͦ͒ͯͧ͘e̢͇̝̱̩̊̏͊s̢̞̭̎ ͧ͆ͦ҉̺̺͍̖̫͓t̷̼̟̥ͯͤ̌̄h̨̠͓̒͌̍a̻̻̩͔ͨ̉͝ț͉̹̜̦̈́̽ͫ͝ ̰̬͚̖̝̟̏̍̿̐͢ͅc̩͎̰͚̣̎͋ͯ͡o͖̭̞̺̼͍͚͗́͘n̵̼̪̣̺ͭt̫̠̖͇̖̱̠̹ͮͯ̀͡r̛̲͍̘̳̝̞̲ͧͩõ̼̞̞͕̤̑̓̒͝l̨͔͈̼̺̤̱̮̺͋ ̻̰̞̟̺ͩ̅͞ͅt̶̬̖͓̼̣̝͚͌ͦͣ̌h̼̜̟͎ͥ͟e̎̅̍̀҉̳͍͕̼̠͕̜ ̙̰̊͟c̟͕̖̙̤͐͐̒̚͡l͚͕̗̙͓̺ͮͮͦ͠o̡̝͔̻̔ͪ̏͂t̠͖̫̖̼̖̯͛͡tin̰̞͎̲̝ͩ̑͊̿͞g͙̤͚͖̲̲͚̯ͨ͡ ̡̩̩ͪ̊̍o̵̜͙̜̦͒̌f̺̣̩̖̹̑͡ͅͅ ̵͈̻̱̲̉̈ͣͫͅ%

t̴̖̪̰̄͂h̙̞͍̹̓͌͌͡e̛͎̜̘̪͈̭͌ͫ ̷̼͈ͮb͇̫̰̦̽̎͑̉l̛͇̳̙̮̳͎̱͐ͅoo̪̘̻̰͎̫̻̿̓̆͢d̺̮̼ͧͩ)̛̪͓̦̜̮̑ͦ̋ ͚͇̪̱͈̟̻͋͘1̢̩̱̱ͧ̓5̛͍̼̖̬̙̣̇ͤ̎0̋ͭ͏̤͙,̮̰̼̠ͣ͛̈́0̷̼̦̳̟̹̼̿0̷̻̝̣̟̟ͣ̒0̡̺͚̃�̶͈̗̼̦̉̏�̭͈̖̭̘͔̥̅�͔͔̊̂͜4̢͈̟͇̪̉0̴̲͖͇̖̖̽̍0̼̭̞̝̏͂͆͢,̦͈̝̏̊̓ͨ͞0͉̪͔͍̝ͧ̕0̠̗̰̦̄̃ͤ0͇̼̤̥̮͇̭̄ͅ/̣͓̭͕̙̥͐͐͑̿͜m̻̱̆ͫ͠m̛̝͚̻͖ͥ̍̈ͫͅ3̵̟̟̝̭̘͎͉̰̂ ̧͖̪̝͉͓̭ͣ̋́ͯͅḩ͔͈̳̈́̿̌é̷̱͈̲͎m̢̞̫̲̫̠̱ͤ͛ȍ҉͈͉͇͍̱̦͙g̺̥̒̃͐ͨ͢l̲̱̗̹̟̘̗͒͡o̡̼̘̊̏b̖͎̝̩̘ͫ̊ͥ͜i̢̙̤͇͇̩̻̹͎ͪn͉̤̬̝͖͚̲ͫ̉̅̇͢ ̪͍̗̼͈̞̪͉̉͒ͥ͞(̢̠̲̇̚p͓̮̝̘ͤ͞r̾͊͌̃͏̳͍̖̟̯ō̵̳̬̰̳̉t̻̥̜̮̦̿ͣ̽̌͢ḛ̰̘̪̞͈͂͊͡ị̖̞͎̋͘ṉ̮̯̈͐͆͟ ̡̩̹̦͈̤̹̾̀w̴͓̟̚ͅiͪ̓͊̉͏̟͍͕̞̫͇ẗ̡̘̱̜͎́͒ͯͅh͖̟̠̥͖̩ͤ͠ḭ̖͚̪̤̗͐͊͡ͅn̹͖̪̎̕ ̖̙̫̤̓̀ͯ͠ť̡͚͚̝͓̭̓̍ͬh͙͚̖͖̗̗͇ͭ͊̅ȅ̑҉̜͍͍̣ ͚̹̣͋͝r̅̊̆͏̩̱̮̹̪̥ͅe̢̖̲̤̮̫͒̋d̵̞̪̼͍̗͍͍̟̔͑ͫ͊ ̴͍̘͚̰͓ͧͅb̛̪͇͍̋̐ļ̯̝͇̟̔̾̃́o͙̣̜̩͖̓̽ͪȯ̶̱̭̙͍̖̤̳̏d̡̻̥̩̠̎̆ͦ ̡̺͕̱̣̯̹͇̻͌͋̅̚c͕̘͉̳̫̩͚̓ͫ̃͠e̳̬̚͝l̢̪͍̱̝̣̝͚̉̈͋l̹̘̲̯͖̠͐ͥ͡s̷̝̰͔̭̪͓͕̼̔ ͧͮ͒̏҉̝͖͇̟͉ṯ̶̟͓̬̠̹͛͛̚h̰̪̳ͨͯ̍ͫ͝a͎͕͉ͥ̅͢ͅt̷̼̯̫̹͖̋̄ͥͫ ͍̦ͫ̑c͖͍̯̲͚͓̽͜a̡͙̞͍̜͓͂͗̓r̷͇̟͖̤̻̣̗ͦͅr͉̣ͨ͑i̢̮̩̣̺͍ͪ́͊e̟̫͔̦͚̱͖̠ͩ͑s̟͔̒͝ ̶̬͍̟͚̺̠̻̋͋o̢͎̺̹̘̗̟̟̘̊̆̉͊x̖̪͊̓̀͠y͇̝̙ͫ͠g̢͓͉̤͎̹̟̈́̂ͅeñ̰̣̤̙͐ͬ̈́͘ ͈̱͓̖̠͔̓̍͜t̅̆̉̊҉̤͍̰̥o̷̙͓͓͓͖͓̤͒ͯ͋ ̷͖̖̜̟̿o̦̼̖̻̭̖͔ͩ̏̈́͡r͔̮̂͢ĝ̡͚̖̣̅a̧̤͖̘̗̻͉ͤ̿̾͗n͙̓͐̒͡ͅs͌̇̔̉҉̝͔͙̭̮͖̺ ̨̻̭̳̱̙̘ͨ̒̈a̵͕̞̪͉̯ͩṉ̵̩̐̈́̓ͧd̷͙̫̥ͬ̆̒ ̷̻͖̥͓̼̓̅t̟̬̝̳̮̤̦̐͒ͦ̚͟i̺̺̝̫ͨ̾̍s̬͔̹̞̳͔̹̓͞ͅs̻͚͔̫̼̋ͬ̅͢uĕ̶̪͇̪̯͆ͮ̓s̜͖̍͞,̶̞̥̳̾͂ͤ͂ ̻͈̣̭̤̩̟̎ͩ͟ḁ̦͚̘̠̝͋ͪ̔̃n̻͇͖̯̳̙͍͕̑ͬ͟d̘̖̭͉̭̭̘͑ͮ̄͆͜ ̧̱̮̺̮̜̀c̛͖̺̗͙͚̑̈ͧͅȧ̯̘͔̤͚̙̝̓͟r̀b̷̞̝̖̺̙ͦ̔o̷̺̟͚̳̒ͥͯ̈́ń̡̺͉̘̬̰̹͊ͅ ̩̘̘́͋ͣͨ̕d̵̙̟̗̬̦̰̬̤͆͑i̵̞̮͎̖͊o̢͓͉͍̫̲̞̮̲͆ͪ̅ͥxi͓̮̞̮̲͚̹͊͘d̷̗̳̭̦̓̔́ͭě̦̯̗̤̹̥̗̊̇͞ ̧̙̫̥̲̤̊b̛̘̤̭ͥͧ̑͛a̵͓̬̬̫̱ͦć͚̰͔ͥͫ̕k̞͓͌̕ ̛̭̜̼̻̥̘͓ͤ̿t̻̟̪̊̍ͮ͡o̜̼̮̮̣͌̒ͫ̎͘ ̖̬̋̈͝t̛͕̱͓͔͙̙̘ͫͨ́ͤh̡̫̲̩̞̻̄e̛̠̳̣ͯ̃ ͍͈͎̰̣͈̲̯͒͘l̙̳̬̫ͯ̉͠u̦͓͙̤̮ͭ̈́ͥ̇̕n̶͇͎͕̠̲̖̯̓̾ͅgs̬͈̱̍ͧ̎̍̕)̬̠̎̕ ͓͚̳̠̒͂́ͮ͞ͅm̜̳̬͙͈̥͓͊̕a̢̩̗̖ͥ̏l̇ͩ̚͏͎̩̻̥͎͙e̵͈̘͇̿͒ͩͯ:̷͕͎ͮ̿ ͐͒ͩ͏͎͉͔͈1̸̘̭̥̤̞̪̭̎3̛͎̠̘̭͓̱̏̔́ͦ.̟͙̦̜̫ͩͫ̓5̼͕͙̞ͦ̍̊͊͜�̶̯̫̳̐̔�̪̮̺̩̤̦̉ͭͫ̓͟�̛̠̟̿ͫ

a̵̬̮͍̣ͩl̨̠͖͍͒̉̽͛e̺͓̮͖͎̋͛̕:̴̺͚͚̝̪͈̑̾̿ ̷̖̩͍̜̊ͫ͒̃ͅ4͎̙ͭͮ͌͝.̶̦̭͈̻̩̾ͣ3̭̲̞̜̹ͮ̈̊ͅ�̢͔̳̅ͤͫ̉�͊͌͏̺̟͇̲̱̮ͅ�5̳̘͓̹̻͖͔̙͐̓̓̂̕.̽̇͏̹̲͖̹̥͉̫9 ͎̺͍̞͓̪ͮ͗̎ͯ͝m̺̙̫̫̃ͩ̿͟ͅi͙̮̠̖͕̠̿͜l̟̠̯̰͕̗̝̤ͮ͌̾̌͟l̶̠̣͆ͩ͛i̍͌͋ͣ҉̤̭͍̠͓̻͇ǫ̭̠̭͇̫͉ͨn̻̱̣̻̤͑͛/̮̯͍͛̆̏̄͞ͅ:̲̱̺͍̱̱̼͈̌͘ ̬̺̭̣̠̪ͬ̅͆̚̕3̧̱͇͚̰͈ͬ.͎̩͗̅̐͠5̡͖̠͎̤̆̅�͖̠̟ͬ͠�̛̹̣̭̟̼̏̑�̢͔͍͖͔̬̗̬̓5̷̭̯̣̫̬̹̉ͤ.̦̼̑ͨ̔ͬ͘ͅ5̛̲̹̱͚͑̑ ̶̗̭̻̮̺̻̪̲̅̋̈m̊ͫ҉̱͓̤̻̰ĭ҉̰̺̭̘̗̳l̴͖͍̮͈̝̓̇̿l̟͈̱̫̺̺͖̋͋͒̏i͕̖̪̩͔̞̙̟ͭͩ͠oń̹͓͉͈̜̗̰͇͘/̷̩̜̟͑͗̑͌m̡͈̳̥̰͈̳̿ͧm͔͙̏̐ͫ͢3ͩ́͏̮̭͎ ̵͓̖̻̹͙̮͆̐͐ͅw̎̋́ͮ҉̟̳h̴̤̜̙̫ͥ̈ȉ̠͖̖̪̠͍͕̏̍̕t̛͔̦̝̂eͦ́̐͏͙̬̖̘ b͓̳͕͈̪͇͙̩̅̋ͪͨ͟lͩ͂҉̯̮o͙̘͓͇̱̖̍ͪ̈͝ò͈̝͈̪ͭ̔̓͘ḍ͚ ̢̪̰̠͉̻ͨc͎̲̬ͫͬé̢̫͙ͯ̉l͇̞͉͚̃̓͠l͓̞͚̻͈̯̣̆ͩ̓s̛̯̲͕̅͛́ͧ ̲̰̫̠̖̍̕(͍̻̃͌̈̄͞i̷̱̟͚̞͙̦̊ͫ̅m̶̯͖͍̎ͦͭ͊

m̼̮̳̙̼̓ͫͨu̮̣̱̱̝̘͙͍ͭͨ͛̊͝n̛̙̯̙͖̄̚ͅe̡̬̳̝̺̦͍ͩͅ ̫͈͇̀̾͠ṣ̝̖̖̺̮̫ͤ͒̿̕y̶̮̙̳̰̾͊s̱̟͉̯̝̩͖ͪ̿ͭ͘tͬͫͮͬ͏͕̪̰̘͚̥é̴̻͇̭ͅm̢͔͓̏́̇͑ ͇̻̥̯̺ͩc̛̖͖̤̪̱̮͗̑ͩẹ̟̯̤͗l̢̲͇̼ͬ̔̐l̥̞͈͕͓ͫ̋͡s̰̟̗̠̝̬͙͍̍ͫ̐̑͝ ̛̩͙̄̄͐į̼͇̟̲̝͖ͬ́n͇͙̫͍ͬ̔̚͘ ̹̩͇̍͜t̶̯͎̟͎̺̭̽̂̃h̭̩̖̝͒͊e̵̪͉̟̘̫̖̝̚ ̢̩͖̙͇͒ͭb̴̬͚͖̘͔̲͇̔ͬ̽̈́ͅlͫ̂͒҉̣̤o̸̲͈͔̦̱͖͑͛ͯ́o͈̹̦͛̔͘d̰̻̼̞̣̩ͫͣ̎)̺̮̺͉͚̣̅ͅ ̣̘̰́̓4̫͍̥̹ͤ̾ͤ̔͞,̌ͦ͛҉̟̩͈̣̱5̴̬͖͉̹̤̖̻̟̅0̶̩͚̳̖̝̀ͣ0̭̲̣̩̽ͥͯ͝

The incoming information was so complex and fast that even Connor’s advanced processors struggled to keep up. His entire vision was getting blocked as new data kept popping up on his inner display. He couldn’t suppress a flinch and reached to pinch the bridge of his nose as the high process build up manifested as a harsh headache like pain right behind his eyes.

“Everything alright Con?” Ben asked worriedly as he was quick to catch on to the other’s clear discomfort.

“Y-Yeah. I mean yes, sir.” Connor managed to stammer without looking at his superior, keeping his eyes pinched shut. But the overwhelming flux of information kept piling up as new data points continued getting registered. Since he had no excess process power to evaluate all incoming information the pressure continued to grow worse. He tried to gain access to reset his sensors back to standard, but he was locked out of the program for some reason. Heat was starting to radiate inside his head as his main frame was overtaxed. Damn it, this was his first case back in the field! He shouldn’t malfunction like this. He was supposed to be better than this! He couldn’t let everyone down again.

“Yeah, and I might believe that if it didn’t look like your head was aching and your face wasn’t so blue and flushed. What’s happening kid, talk to me.” Ben insisted, not able to keep the worry out of his voice.

Connor managed to look up and schooled his expression into a somewhat passive expression, only the slight tightness around his eyes indicated his continued pain. “I’m sorry sir. It’s just that.. My oral analysis sensors might be in need of calibration. It’s currently testing for 348 separate analysis elements in a single sample and I can’t seem to correct the error myself. It’s taking up a large part of my processers’ power, causing something akin to what humans would call a headache and a temporary visual obstruction of data, until I can clear them up manually. My flush is caused by an excess of thirium having to be rerouted to my cranial components to keep up with the high processing demand.” He explained quickly. “I’ve been able to confirm our first victim, Collin Hart, was indeed under the influence of both alcohol as well as a high concentration of Red Ice. But I’m afraid my sensors are demanding too much of my processers to complete any other functions, meaning I can’t continue testing the other victims at the moment. I’m extremely sorry that this will cause a delay to our investigation and complicate your work sir, but I promise I’ll try and make up for my insufficiency.” Connor added, sounding truly regretful and for not being able to preform one of his main functions in the field, letting his team and coworkers down.

Ben stepped forward to place a comforting hand on Connor’s shoulder. It was clear to see the kid already mentally beating himself up for not preforming as well as he thought he should. “Hey, relax kid, it’s your first day back. Just take it easy, ok? Your health is more important than the case. Do you need to top of your thirium reserves? I think I have a spare pack in my bag.” Ben asked, already moving toward his bag located at the front door.

“No, I’m alright for now. Thank you for your concern though.” Conner answered gratefully, his eyes softening a bit at his senior’s support. “I’ll start marking the evidence for your report for now then. Hopefully my diagnostic software will identify and correct the glitch so I can continue my forensic tests afterwards.”

“Alright, sounds good and let me know if you need a break. Seriously kid I don’t want you to overstrain yourself.” Ben agreed, delivering a good natured tap to Connor’s cheek and a soft smile before turning back to his pad in hand.

Upstairs, unknown to the duo, Reed was silently fuming. “Fucking hell, is Ben really putting that rust bucket’s wellbeing higher than solving a quadruple homicide?! Offering it fucking breaks and everything, it’s a bloody joke!” He’d followed the scene discreetly from his higher ground. Well, Ben was about to realize that having a malfunctioning piece of plastic is nothing but a hindrance and a nuisance! Reed reached for the remote in his pocket yet again. “Time to step it up a notch.”

[Full body sensor system // Pressure sensitivity 100% // WARNING current settings will require excess processor and power usage // Nonvital functions will be down prioritized // Risk of long term damage to model // WARNING // Extended use of current setting will require extensive recalibration of all sensors]

Ignoring all warnings Reed proceeded with the adjustment and activated the selected function. He looked down below, ready to enjoy the show.

Connor literally froze mid-step as his entire body tensed up. From one second to the next he felt as every single little sensory receiver in his whole body was amplified to an excruciating level. The feel and weight of his clothes alone felt like fire on his skin. His breath shuttered harshly once then twice, before his ventilation program shut off entirely as his systems started to automatically to shut down certain functions in order to uphold the strain it was taking to keep all his external sensors on such a high intensity. His thirium pump on the other hand started to beat thrice its normal rhythm to sustain his body’s sudden current demand. He reached involuntarily for his chest as his pump went haywire and immediately regretted it when the simple pressure of his own hand on his chest sent a wave of torment through his entire frame. His inner display filled with useless data of his pump rate and sensory input, like how many units of newtons was applied by his clothes, his hand even the hair on his head. It was so excruciating that Connor had completely disappeared into his own painfilled bubble, frozen in place as he was overcome with an agony that was impossible to imagine or describe.

Ben was quick to notice Connor’s odd behavior as he couldn’t help worrying the android was pushing himself too hard as he tended to do. Also, the incident from last week still haunted the senior officer and he couldn’t help the protectiveness that was always quick to come over him when it regarded the young detective. Even tough Connor was on his way to be one of the most acclaimed detectives in the DPD, excelling on all fronts in his career, the kid had a bad habit of neglecting his own needs and safety to solve a case or help his colleagues. Connor once admitted to him that he sometimes forgot he was no longer expected to accomplish his mission at the cost of his own safety since it’d been so deeply conditioned in his programming by Cyberlife to do just that. And because Connor was one of the most competent, professional and skilled officers on the force, it was easy to forget the kid was literally only a little over 1 year old, which also made him a bit naïve, vulnerable and very trusting in nature. While Hank was definitely the most protective of Connor, having basically adopted the kid as his own, Ben and most members of their precinct could not help but share the need to guard their newest member to the best of their ability. So as Ben saw Connor completely freeze up, hearing his sudden gasp, the senior immediately sensed something was very wrong. “Connor? Hey what’s the matter.” Ben asked worriedly, half running towards the frozen detective. As he got closer he could see the kid’s eyes shone with a look of catatonic and pained panic and his LED spun wildly in a deep red color, only confirming his fears. “Come on kid, look at me, what’s going on?” He asked again and reached out and took a firm hold of Connor’s left shoulder. “D-DON’T TOCH ME!!” Connor yelled out in a pained cry, flinching hard away from Ben’s touch as if he’d been burned. His recoil was so violent that he stumbled on his unsteady legs, then tripping over an overturned footrest before crashing to the floor, his right shoulder making contact first before landing on his back.

Connor let out a heart wrenching cry of anguish as the slightest touch and bump felt like a bone crushing pressure to his frame. His thirium pump worked like a jackhammer inside his chest and every beat felt like he was taking a hit from a mallet right to the sternum.

“CONNOR?!” Ben called out panicked and kneeled at his side, he made a move to reach for the kid but stopped himself, afraid to hurt him more.

The commotion of course didn’t go unnoticed by the other officers in the room. Pearson, Thomsen and Hank, especially Hank, came rushing from whatever part of the suite they’d been working to see what was happening.

“Holy shit! Connor?!” Hank called out in despair finding his son on the floor in distress.

“What happened?” Pearson asked horrified at having to witness her friend in torment yet again.

“I-I think his sensors are malfunctioning somehow.” Ben offered weakly. “He told me his oral forensic analysis sensors were malfunctioning. It must have spread and affected his entire sensory system.” He added, feeling useless for not being able to offer any further help or explanation.”

Connor let out a pained groan below them, his core temperature was starting to rise drastically since his ventilation system was no longer operating. Multiple warnings messages were starting to pop up on his display.

[WARNING // Stress level 87%^^ // Seek stress reducing measures immediately]

[WARNING // Core temperature 113°F^^ // Seek temperature reducing measures immediately]

[WARNING // External sensor system overloaded // Lower sensor sensitivity immediately // ERROR access to sensory system settings denied]

[WARNING // Thirium pump overloaded // Engage stabilized rhythm // ERROR thirium shortage in sensory system components – Thirium pump bpm increasing // WARNING…]

The warning and error codes kept going in an endless loop again and again.. Connor’s red LED blinked and reflected of the polished wooden floor beneath him as the pain radiated through every wire, line and component of his whole being. Unable to hold back any longer a clear saline solution started to drip steadily from Connor’s eyes, trailing down his temples, past his red LED and into his hair.

Hank reached out on pure reflex to wipe the tears from his face before Thomsen intervened, stopping his hand before it could make contact.

“No don’t touch him! It’ll only make it worse sir!”

“Hell, I can’t just sit here and do nothing!!” Hank protested in helpless frustration, but still pulled his hand back.

“I-I’t’s too m-much.. I-I can’t..” Connor stammered and gently turned his head to lock onto Hank’s eyes with a desperate look. “It h-hurts so bad D-Dad!” He cried, finding the only solace he could think of in the eyes of his father.

Hanks own eyes ran over with tears hearing his son’s desperate pained voice. Connor only called him Dad when he was feeling vulnerable, hurt or overwhelmed by the many challenges he still faced with his deviancy. He’d never called him Dad in public, only when they were alone and in total privacy. For him to call out to him like this spoke volumes of how much in pain he was going through and it fucking broke Hank’s heart.

“Shhh, Shh.. It’s alright son it’s alright, we’ll get you through this.” Hank promised fervently, wishing he could give his son any kind of physical comfort, but not daring to do so.

Pearson’s eyes were wet with tears as well, trying to hold in her own sobs at the heartbreaking scene before her. Ben and Thomsen’s eyes were misty as well, but they kept it together and tried to be strong for both Connor and Hank’s sake.

“Connor, is there any way you can you push yourself into stasis mode?” Ben asked.

“No I-I’ve tried, but..” A bitten off cry of pain interrupted. “But I c-can’t gain access t-to any of my.. M-Manual override programs!” Connor gasped the last word and arched off the floor with a pained cry as one of his minor internal thirium lines burst from the extensive pressure from his thirium pump.

From his sport above Reed was thoroughly enjoying the show, but figured it was time to make an appearance of his own. He descended the stairs quickly and made his way to the group around the fallen Tin Can.

“Nothing for it then! We’ll have to have it.. Err, I mean him, transported back to the station so John can take another look.” Reed announced drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

“And how the hell are we supposed to do that?” Hank barked angrily.

“Simple, I’ll carry him to the car, drive him back.” Reed offered like it was the obvious, planting both his hands in his side.

“But with his sensors malfunctioning like that it’ll be pure torture for him to be manhandled like that!!” Pearson argued.

“Well, I don’t see any other way, he can’t stay here either, he’s contaminating an active crime scene!” Reed countered.

“I think Reed is right.. It won’t be pleasant, but we can’t just leave him like this either.” Ben agreed sullenly, not happy about the prospect.

“Why don’t we just call John and have him come here instead?” Thomsen asked.

“Whatever this is isn’t an easy fix.. John will likely need to have full need of his lab at the DPD. It’ll be quicker to bring Connor back as fast as we can.” Ben said, being the most knowledgeable in the room of android technical aid.

“Ain’t no way I’m letting you touch him! I’ll carry him myself!” Hank growled, still not trusting Reed.

“Hank.. You know your back isn’t in the best shape anymore and.. This is going to hurt Connor.. A lot.. He’s likely going to trash and cry out.. I don’t think it’d be wise for you to do it. Pearson and I don’t have the strength and Thomsen broke two knuckles three days ago. Besides, Reed is by far the strongest among us.” Ben reasoned.

Hank was clearly struggling with the decision, but knew that Ben was right.

“Alright!!” Hank bellowed, hanging his head before raising it back up with a stone cold glare. “But I swear to God Reed.. If something happens to him..” Hank let the unfinished threat hang in the air.

“On scout’s honor I promise to be careful.” Reed said, raising his right hand above his heart. “Too bad I’ve never been a scout, though.” He thought amused to himself. This was perfect! This way he could stay close to the Tin Can and keep his fun going for as long as possible.

Reed kneeled at Connor’s side who’d now pinched his eyes shot and grinding his teeth so hard they’d have broken if he’d been human. Reed snapped his fingers besides the bucket’s head to gain its attention. Connor managed to open his eyes a fraction to look at Reed.

“Hey, I’m gonna pick you up and get you back to the office so John can fix you, alright?” Reed explained quickly, having to act somewhat civil since everybody was watching him. “It’s gonna hurt like a bitch, but try and keep cool so I don’t drop you, okay?”

Connor managed one tight nod to show he understood the instructions.

“Alright then, here goes.”

Reed swiftly took a hold of the Tin Can’s left arm and quickly hefted it across his shoulders in a classic fireman’s carry.

Despite trying his very hardest Connor couldn’t suppress the tormented screams that tore through him as the jostling deeply aggravated his over sensitized system. Reed moved quickly out through the front door to make his way down to his parked car. And if he, the minute he was out of eyesight from the others, might have accidently squeezed the worthless sack across his shoulders a little tighter than necessary causing pained cries of agony to echo throughout the whole stairwell. Well, no one would know anyway.

---

Most on duty officers at the DPD was sitting quietly at their desks, pretending to be working, but no one really were. The office was unusually silent, the only sound breaking through from time to time being the tormented screams of Connor echoing down all the way from the onsite technical aid facility upstairs. Many had witnessed as detective Reed had arrived, carrying the android across his shoulders, looking and to be in tremendous pain, upstairs to receive technically aid by John. No one knew what had happened, but the anguished screams of pain from their colleague, able to penetrate several stories, was proving to be too distracting and heartbreaking for most to be able to work through. Reed had yet to come back down, likely trying to assist John in his work. Captain Fowler was talking on the phone, pacing his small glass office and gesturing wildly as he was talking to lieutenant Anderson in an attempt to try and clear up what had happened to Connor on the case.

Finally, the screaming seemed to halt and a few minutes after both detective Reed and John excited the elevator. Reed looked just as casual as always, but John was clearly deeply affected by the whole ordeal he’d just worked through. Captain Fowler quickly ended his phone call to join the two on the floor.

“What the hell happened to him?!” Fowler demanded, his angry burst a façade to try and hide how worried he was about Connor.

John ran hand down his tired face. “Connor’s entire sensory systems was somehow locked on the highest settings possible to register. Due to his advanced prototype design it.. To speak plainly sir, a pinprick in that state would to Connor feel like being run through with a sword, a small push would feel like being hit by a truck at full speed. I finally managed to force him into emergency stasis mode like last time, but I needed to have detective Reed hold him down to keep him still for the procedure and just like last time it was almost impossible because I’m having trouble getting connected.. It.. I’ve never witnessed anything like it..”

“I quite enjoyed the show.” Reed thought, happy with how long he’d been able to keep the Tin Can debilitated this time. Surely people would start realizing that androids weren’t nothing more than a glorified equipment piece and would never replace humans in the field!

Just then the doors to the bullpen burst open as Anderson rushes through, closely followed by Ben, Pearson, Thomsen, Tina, Wilson, Miller and Collins. Collins, Miller, Wilson and Tina hadn’t been present for Connor’s malfunction, but they’d heard his cries as he’d been carried from the scene and had been filled in by the rest on the team on their way back.

“Where is he?! Where’s my son?!” Hank shouted, not caring he was being emotional and loud about it in public.

“He’s upstairs, resting, peacefully, at last.” John answered.

“Oh, thank fuck!” Hank sighed and covered his face with his hands and took some deep calming breaths before facing John again with his next question. “Is he going to be okay?”

“In time he should make a full recovery, but it’s going to be a long process before I can have his sensors recalibrated fully back to standard. His thirium pump also needs time to restabilize because of the massive strain it needed to uphold for so long. I’m afraid Connor has some tough weeks ahead of him, but I’ll do anything in my power to get him through it as well as I can.” John promised.

Hank nodded reluctantly, glad that Connor was going to ok, but sad that he was facing yet another painful recovery after just having gotten back on his feet.

“What caused him to malfunction this time?” Wilson asked.

John made a grimace. “I.. I’m still not sure.. I think whatever keeps blocking his receiver might have something to do with it. I’m fearing Connor’s last malfunction and the one he suffered today might be connected and not a passing virus as I initially thought, but I promise I’ll do anything I can to fix it!”

“Yeah, good luck with that moron, I’ll keep one step ahead of you!”

“We know you’ll do what you can John and don’t be shy to come to me if there’s anything you need to help Connor, equipment, facilities, extra manpower you name it. I’ll make sure to get it for you.” Captain Fowler offered in a serious voice.

“And if there’s anything any of us can do, please let us know. I’m sure we’d all be happy to help if need be.” Officer Wilson extended, gesturing to the rest of the office crowd, followed by a steady stream of eager agreements from across the room.

“What?! No, no, NO! Why are we wasting so many fucking resources on that trash can? you’re all supposed to see hos useless that fucking machine is!! What the hell is wrong with you people?!” Reed thought angrily.

Suddenly everyone’s attention was diverted as the elevator dinged its arrival to the ground floor. As the doors opened everyone was shocked to see Connor, barely standing and just so by the help of the wall and elevator bars. His hair was tousled, his jacket and tie were gone and his white dress shirt was undone down to his sternum. His face was deadly pale and his eyes were unfocused and blank. He stumbled out of the elevator almost falling but just managing to catch himself heavily on a file cabinet, his arms and legs shaking with the strain, his face pulling into a pained grimace from the impact and effort to keep himself up. Everyone had been staring completely dumbfounded at the scene before them, not able to fathom how Connor had managed to be up un his feet already, if you could call his zombie like bearing that. Finally, several people seemed to snap out of it as Connor made his next attempt at moving forward without any kind of support around him, clearly doomed to fail his endeavor. Lewis and Collins both rushed to the android’s aid as he fell to his knees, but luckily managed to catch him before the rest of him followed.

“Woah buddy! We got you.” Collins reassured as the pair gently tried to maneuver Connor into a sitting position on the floor.

John was quick to join them, as he shifted back into caretaker mode. And gently took a hold around Connor’s neck and head in a mixed attempt to ground and comfort the struggling detective.

“Connor! Con, look at me! You have to be still! Your systems and body aren’t stable enough for you to move around yet. Do you understand?” John called out, his thumbs moving in a comforting caress across soft cheekbones in his hands.

Connor’s eyes were gliding in and out of focus and his body was shaking with tension, but the still tried to fight his way back to his feet, as if he hadn’t heard a word John had said.

“I.. I need to.. F-Finish my In.. Investigation.. “ He managed to rasp out in a weak voice as he struggled against the holds on his body. “It’s m-my.. Duty to complete.. The case at.. At any c-cost!” Suddenly Connor’s entire body spasmed in a painful contraction causing the android to let out a bitten off cry of pain, eyes pinching and jaw locking tight.

“What the hell John, I thought you said he was in stasis resting. How is he even able to move right now?” Captain Fowler barked out, running his hand across his bald head.

“He shouldn’t be!” John was quick to answer, his eyes still roaming all over Connor’s face and body, trying to assess his condition. “But if I were to guess I believe it might be a back-up program installed by Cyberlife, designed to kick in and revert him to his most basic function, Completing any ongoing investigation at all costs, despite damage or injury to himself. It’s probably a installment made exclusively to his prototype. Even though Connor is a deviant now with free will he’s likely too weak right now to resist it.”

“Fucking hell, those bastards!” Fowler grumbled angrily.

“Connor?” Hank kneeled in front of his boy, placing his right hand softly on Connor’s cheek. “Hey son, it’s time for you to rest now. Don’t worry about the case, it’s under control. You just focus on getting better now, you hear me?”

At the sound of his father’s voice, it was as if Connor was able to break slightly through his forced programming and at least focus on Hank’s face. “I.. I don’t want t-to.. Dissapoint you..”

Hank’s heart broke a little more at those words. “Son, you could never disappoint me!” He said in a firm voice and shifted his hand too run through Connor’s thick brown locks of hair. “I promise you that.”

“Urggh! I think I might puke.” Reed thought as he witnessed the sappy sight. Unfortunately, he seemed to be the only one as the rest of the onlookers watched the scene with a look of adoration, many with wet eyes also.

Connor’s eyes then pinched shut again and he hissed sharply before reaching for his head.

John was quick to turn to the room. “Could someone please run to the breakroom and bring a pack of thirium?” A junior officer was quick to comply to the request and fetched a bag of lemon ginger flavored thirium. John accepted the bag before turning back to the android still in his arms. “Your processors have already been way overloaded Con and your thirium levels are alarmingly low. I need you to drink this whole bag, then we’re gonna carry you back upstairs and you’ll rest until I see your vitals improving, alright?”

Connor nodded and accepted the bag with a shaking hand. He downed the liquid quickly and allowed Lewis and Collins, who’d both been keeping him steady all the while, to help him back upstairs despite it still clearly hurt him to be moved too much, but held back voicing his discomfort. John and Hank of course followed right behind them.

Afterwards the small crowd slowly dispersed, once again trying to return to their work, but most thoughts still stayed with their friend and colleague, worried and sad to see him hurt once again.

Reed fought hard to contain his sneer, how was people still not seeing how useless that fucking android was? It was nothing more than a glorified computer and a nonfunctioning computer was just trash, therefor so was the Tin Can! As he sat back down at his own desk, he reached down to gentle caress the remote in his pocket. He’d just have to get more creative then.

#whump writing #whump fic #connorwhump #dbh fandom #dbh whump #connor dbh #hurt/comfort #painful #original character #Poor Connor #detroid become human #angst with fluff #angst with a happy ending #Connor deserves Happiness

21 notes · View notes