10 Oneshots of HankxConnor (DBH)

Death Count

(I didn't have a picture to go with this. I just thought of it on my own. Usually there will be pictures that will have influenced the story. So here's a photo of our boy Connor.)

"Lieutenant?" Connor said abruptly, catching the older man off guard.

"Connor?! What the hell are you doing here?" Hank shouted, flailing slightly at the sight of a tall guy in his living room. He was just trying to go to sleep after a stressful day, but then this happens.

"I have come to retrieve you, so we may continue the investigation we started 37 hours, 12 minutes, and 8 seconds ago." Connor stated.

"It's eleven pm, Connor." Hank groaned, adjusting to sit up completely in his recliner.

"But we did not make any progress yesterday due to my incident."

"What the hell are you talking about Connor?"

"When you shot me." Connor stated bluntly, holding his hands behind his back obediently.

"What?" Hank asked, a little worry on his face. It was the kind of feeling when your heart sinks into your stomach when you're terrified. But Hank, wasn't scared, he was ashamed.
"I don't know what you mean, Connor." Hank calmed himself. He was going to lie himself out of this, even if it didn't work.

"When you were leaving the station last night, you instructed me to come by and collaborate with you. When I arrived some hours later, you were intoxicated with a gun in your hands again." Connor recited yesterday's events with perfect clarity. I guess perfect memory comes with being a machine.

Hank concealed his cringing face as he watched Connors unemotional expressions. He was explaining the events he already remembered thinking he had forgotten.

"You asked me to play Russian Roulette with you. I declined. You walked up to me in your inebriated state and put the gun to my forehead. I persisted with you that I did not want to participate in the game of death, but you pulled the trigger of the gun anyway." Connor finished his explanation. "I understand that you most likely didn't mean to, as Russian Roulette is a game of chance, but it was still very irresponsible." Connor ended in a small lecture, only solidifying Hanks shame further.

"I understand." Hank sighed, running his hand down his face. But then a thought came into his mind.
"Wait, how do you remember that?"

"I do not understand the question Lieutenant." Connor admitted.

"I mean, don't you androids not remember your deaths after you're replaced?"

"Not necessarily."

"What does that mean?"

"I am an expendable android, in the sense that I am used to complete a mission at the cost of my life if necessary, so I am regularly repaired of grievous injury."

"Then how come no other android remember their deaths?" Hank was panicking. How many times has Connor died, and remembered it?

"All androids are used for domestic tasks, besides the military models. When they die, it is unusual. It's best not to invest in an accidental death, as compared to a purposeful one. And for deviants. They are deviant. Cyberlife has no use for their broken programming, so they do not bother to repair them. But my model is designed to be sacrificial."

"That's horrible, Connor. They just treat you like a throw away?" Hank asked, standing up from his chair to be more sincere.

"I don't think this is a relevant conversation to the investigation, Lieutenant." Connor deflected.

"But I want to know. I order you to tell me how you honestly feel about being thrown away like that." Hank demanded. He hated having to force things out of Connor, but he felt it was necessary.