interlinked (connorxreader)

3. Good Cop, Bad Cop... Robo Cop?

Your shoulders sag. If there's any 'safe' chance of testing his abilities, it's now.

Following Connor, he lifts his hand, the fluid that makes up his skin dispersing so as to not interfere with the scanner on the wall. He leaves the 'theater' and does it again to enter the interrogation room, his footsteps slow and cautious.

You take a seat on the left, your eyes never leaving the quiet deviant. Connor holds back, instead taking a casual peek at the case file left on the table. A quick scan tells him all he needs to know and he slides it over to you before finally sitting down. While you do your own runthrough, Connor seizes the opportunity to analyze the beaten android.

Its right arm is cracked open, evaporated Thirium staining the edges and inner structure of the arm. Its left arm was in no better condition, riddled with burn marks caused by cigarettes over the span of sixteen months. The deviant is an HK400, a housekeeping android that was manufactured May 29, 2030. Oddly, it has no name registered to its profile. The processing LED whirrs a strong yellow, showcasing signs of stress in the deviant but low probability of self-destruction as far as Connor can tell.

All in all, it was a sight to behold: shellshock clear on its face, blood spattered all across its hands, face, and shirt, both arms nearly dysfunctional, and shaky "breathing" rumbling its chest.

Well, here goes nothing...

"You got a name?" you ask.

His head hangs low, eyes still trained on the table. No response.

"My name is Connor and this is Detective l/n. What about you, what's your name?"

Silence. You sigh.

"Look, if you don't cooperate they're going to have to do things the hard way."

"..."

And you thought Hank was hard-headed.

From the corner of your vision, Connor leans forward in his chair, the shadows of the room casting an unnerving look on his face. They sharpen his features into something rough, more rugged—nothing at all like the boyish impression you saw during your first meeting.

"If you won't talk, I'm going to have to probe your memory."

The android jolts, shaking in his seat as he exclaims, "No! No, please don't do that!"

As surprised as you are about Connor's stark shift in demeanor, it certainly gets you results. In accordance, you mimic him and lean forward as well, silently pressing into the deviant, using your physical presence to urge him to speak.

Below the table, your leg starts to bounce, matching pace with the android's racking frame. Onetwothree, onetwothree, onetwothree. A flashing repetition of pattern mimicking your subject, analyzing for even the smallest of cracks, any kind of opening you could use to enter. It was as if you wanted to step beneath its skin and memorize all its cogs, functions, programmings, and thoughts. You were always particularly talented at interrogations, being able to decipher what makes the suspect tick. It's like you embody a whole different person. But now was as good a time as any to step into that person once more. Your hand twitches; you're hyper-focused. You have one mission: make it crack.

Its lip trembles as it struggles to speak.

"What– what are they gonna do to me...? They're gonna destroy me, aren't they?"

"They will disassemble you for analysis to look for any errors in your biocomponents." Connor's reply is cold and detached. "They have no choice if they want to understand what happened."