Predecessor (Connor x Reader)

13 - On The Run

"We checked the CCTV while you were questioning the witness," Connor explains. "The android was caught on camera stealing them. It had wire cutters and it was looking for a place to hide."

"So, what's your conclusion, Sherlock?" Hank scoffs.

"It took the first bus that came along... and stayed at the end of the line. Its decision wasn't planned, it was driven by fear."

"Androids don't feel fear." Hank shakes his head.

"Deviants do," Connor counters. "They get overwhelmed by their emotions and make irrational decisions. Maybe it didn't go far..."

Hank's gaze lingers for a moment, his scepticism clear. "Maybe..."

Your gaze drifts across the street, landing on an abandoned house behind a rusted chain-link fence. The building stands in a state of decay—cracked bricks, peeling paint, and walls scarred by time. It's becoming a familiar sight, these crumbling, forgotten places where deviants take refuge, hidden in the shadows, as discarded and forsaken as the structures around them.

Connor notices your observation, following the trail of your gaze to examine the house as well, eyeing the fence. He turns his head back around, locking eyes with you. You both nod, and without another word, you both cross the street towards it.

You can't help but notice how you and Connor have finally fallen into sync, and how today, no words are necessary between you two. There's a quiet understanding, an unspoken rhythm that guides your actions. It's as if, without even trying, you know exactly what the other is thinking, where you're headed next. There's a lightness in your chest, something almost giddy, as if it's a rare and comforting thing to know that you make such a good team.

The cold air brushes against your skin as you walk until you reach the fence. You both pause, standing in front of it as you peer onto the front porch. The fence, once secure, now shows signs of damage—links bent out of shape, evidence of an entry.

You scan the area carefully and spot traces of blue blood along the cut sections of the fence. She's definitely been here.

Connor catches sight of it as well, crouching down to get a closer look. "There's blue blood on the fence," he says, lifting the loose chain-link. He ducks underneath and holds it up for you. "I know another android was here."

You follow behind him, stepping under the fence and onto the overgrown yard. The porch lies in front of you, aged and forgotten. Weeds snake up around the base, reclaiming the land, while makeshift wooden planks cover the gaps in the walls.

You squint through a gap in the boards, your breath catching as you spot movement inside. Through the darkness of the interior, you see an android standing there, but it's not an AX400. This one is different—disheveled, battered. The sleek lines you're used to are replaced with a patchwork of damaged limbs and torn clothing, as if the android has been discarded and left to rot.

Connor steps forward, his hand moving to the door. He opens it carefully, and you follow behind him.

As you step inside, the first thing you notice is the smell—the smoky residue of a dying fire crackling weakly in a neglected fireplace. The air is thick with the scent of soot, mingling with the musty odour of old wood and dampness. The faint sound of dripping water echoes through the house, and the floorboards groan under your weight.

Sparse furniture is scattered around, and everything looks temporary like it's all just been thrown together without much thought, but it's lived in, certainly. In the midst of it all stands the android, twitching involuntarily. His posture is rigid, but there's a nervous, almost desperate energy to his movements. The gashes on his face are evident that he's been through something—something that's left its mark on his psyche, distorting the way he interacts with the world around him. You and Connor approach slowly, both cautious yet compelled by the need to understand. You scan him: