Deviant Behavior (Connor x Reader)

State of Emergency

He shook the water from his hat, shivering slightly.

"Damn, you get me into as much trouble as my last partner."

"I doubt that." You blew a piece of wet hair out of your face, "Gavin's got a knack for attracting danger."

"But you stay livin' in the danger zone, Mav."

You huffed, cracking your neck, "Deal with anything like this during your time in the Marines?"

"Tch," He licked his lips, "The terrorists in Afghan weren't androids giving tirades on national television...but I bet their heads pop the same."

His nose twitched as the elevator lurched, the lights flickering as it picked up speed.

"Would've loved to see Reed's face when you told him you were ex-military." You snorted, "Bet his ego loved that."

"Didn't have much to say about it.  I told him I had more confirmed kills in real life than he did in Call of Duty and that's where the conversation ended."

"Smooth."

You looked over your shoulder, eyeing up a black dome mounted in the corner.  Without a second thought, you pulled your gun on it and fired.  Chris didn't even flinch.

His brows perked up, "Now you've got more confirmed android kills and downed cameras than me."

You sniffed, "Can con-firm, android heads and cameras pop just like a human head."

He gave out a short laugh, his mouth pulling back in a half-grin, "Oorah."

"Hmph..." You watched the light on the bar above the door flick closer and closer to 79, "They always did say 'the revolution will be televised.'"

"Did they?" Chris joined you in observation, "Did they also say 'so will the badass cops that came to bust the party?'"

"No, but I wouldn't mind fifteen minutes of fame that didn't involve Cyb-"

You bit the inside of your cheek, and lowered your eyes.

"Now that you mention shit you're not supposed to," His voice took on a more serious tone, "Shouldn't you be happy this is going on?"

You allowed yourself a steep inhale.  Stoked the fire in your belly that had the clouds in your head igniting and raining fire from above.  Let it burn uncontrollably until it was consuming; a comfortable heat that remained sheltered in that fortified greenhouse of yours.

"He's reading something I wrote word for word." Your brows sunk above your nose, knitting together in pure rage, "It's not his..."

"And you, little bird, with blood on your wings...You will have to choose a side to carry out your message."

Whether or not your sun-flare feathers would be coated with boiling blood didn't matter, because you were the Phoenix that ignited the flames of political war, not a mere messenger raven.  You didn't have to choose sides.  You were still the line in the sand; the sand you'd smelt to glass as your message was carried on burning wings.

"It's not his message to deliver."

Seventy-seven.

"Leave it to you to drop some cryptic lines like that right before we get wrapped up in a firefight."

He didn't know how accurate the statement was.  There was a firefight coming, because fire was best matched with fire itself, and there was plenty to go around.  You'd be the one to send the firewall between both parties if it meant keeping the ones you love safe.  Keeping Connor safe, the bird strayed and fatigued by flight who you'd welcomed to your nest of peat and ash.