Predecessor (Connor x Reader)

13 - On The Run

9:56AM.

Time ticks away as you sit at your desk, the usual burden that's become so familiar is sinking into your chest like an anchor, dragging you further into the depths with each passing minute. The usual bustle of the precinct surrounds you—phones ringing, the low hum of conversations weaving through the air. The mundane hum of daily life is constant, but today it feels far more dissonant.

You try to keep yourself busy, shifting through the load of deviant cases you've been assigned to review. But the files feel like static, each document like a broken circuit. You flick from one case to the next—an android accused of theft, another of murder, yet another suspected of assault. But most of all, they're reported simply for disappearing. But it's hard to focus with all that's happened recently heavy on your mind.

Hank's usual lateness doesn't faze you—he's predictable, always running behind, drowning in his own world of frustration. But Connor's absence is different. It's not like him. He's the one who arrives first, the one with perfect punctuality. Yet, this morning, both the seats behind you sit empty.

The noise in the room continues, a blur of sound that should comfort you. It doesn't. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, but your mind drifts elsewhere. You can't tell if it's the deviant files, the lies you've been forced to tell, or the unsettling feeling creeping from the edges of your mind.

The lights overhead buzz softly, their harsh fluorescent glow flickering in rhythm with your thirium pump's slow pulse. You glance at the clock again. 9:56AM.

Connor should have been here by now.

A jolt of unease runs through you—What if he's delayed for a reason? The thought sinks in your chest. CyberLife's watchful eyes. Connor's words from the other night resurfaces. 'They're always watching me, you know.'

You push the thought away, focusing again on the files in front of you. But they're a blur. Nothing seems to make sense today. You glance at the door. The world outside feels far too loud, too heavy, and too still.

But then familiar voices break through the background noise, the ones you know will always make the day feel just a little bit easier.

"Hey!" your name follows Chris's greeting as he pulls up a chair next to you without waiting for an invitation. His grin is wide, and you can't help but smile back. Tina follows, sliding to sit on your desk next to you, offering a casual wave.

"Hey, guys," you say, trying to push the weight of the case aside for a moment. "How's it going?"

"Usual," Tina shrugs, arms crossed. "Filing reports, responding to calls, dissolving into dust, etcetera etcetera."

"Yeah, it's moving slowly today," Chris adds, leaning back in his chair. "The last hour of work I been on straight bullshit I ain't gonna lie."

"Yeah, you're gonna be promoted to detective real soon at this rate," Tina chuckles.

"I'm just warming up, I'll make up for it later."

You laugh lightly, appreciating the distraction. "How's Damian?"

"Oh, he's been wonderful!" Chris beams, his voice softening. "Being a dad is tough, but it's so rewarding. I don't think I ever fully understood the whole 'fatherhood' thing until he was born."

"I could never have a kid," Tina interjects, half-joking. "It would take away from time I could be on my phone."

You chuckle. "This is valid."

"No, it's not!" Chris gasps, dramatically throwing his hands up. "How about opening your mind to the wonder and whimsy of the world around you instead? You people have no appreciation for legacy."