Chapter Text
The peach-fuzz Boy
The first thing that Connor noticed was his proclivity for pomegranate and the soft fuzz of unripe peaches.
He instantly fell in love with those new upgrades, that were released every fortnite. The new CEO of Cyberlife was a messiah.
Connor was unripe himself. Looking less peachy, but even more tender to touch.
He felt his skin growing more dainty day by day. The changes, which were coming hand in hand with the released android rights, were personalized and tailored for his model.
He even got aware of his senses, to be more precise, he learned to enjoy them.
Delicate, Hank called and teased him, when he brushed his fingers just barely above Connor's hand and he started moaning all of the sudden.
The feeling was astonishing.
Connor wanted to act cold and rational as always, but he merely purred and pushed his body against the police lieutenant, as the man patted his back.
This became routine. Hank treating him sweetly and Connor longing for the human touch, instead of appreciation.
It was going so well. And Connor wanted more. No one could really blame the curiosity of the andoroid.
Then he noticed something rather unsettling. The people started looking at him differently. Well, all androids were treated different since the revolution, but Connor's smooth transformation was eyeballed unlike his friends.
At first he told himself to keep calm. This wasn't an abnormality. Connor couldn't just confront everyone who acted odd around him. It's their personal business.
Strange, but true: Connor was peculiar himself. He found himself with his nose buried in one of those fantasy books, that were made out of paper. Or tiptoeing to the kitchen and eating pop tarts in the middle of the night.
Honestly, he had no reason to be scared.
But then it happened.
Yesterday Connor had to interview a suspect.
It was some weird guy. Connor could tell he was addicted to red ice and his criminal report reassured the android.
Apparently he left some DNA inside a strangled Traci.
'Please sit down.' he asked the man, still polite as always.
The guy inspected him. His tie, neat as always, the rolled-up sleeves, which show of his lean wrists. It was a hot summer day in Detroit and Connor's newest addition was a sensitivity to temperature and a bunch of emotions.
His skull was oddly deformed. Connor couldn't really tell he had a forehead at all, because it slopped back abruptly and the rest was hidden behind big bushy eyebrows. His eyes were small and bloodshot, looked at the young android in front of him like Connor was prey.
Good god, was this guy high? He sure looked like it, with those eyes, unwinking and staring.
'Please.' Connor insisted. 'Sit down or I'll have to call my partner.'
Again no reaction. Just his BPM rising up.
Then the guy opened his mouth and revealed a row of yellowish teeth.
'Poor android wouldn't call for help.' he slurred. '-W-Will beg for my cock, you slag.'
The wanker suddenly grabbed his arm. Connor let out a small cry. His LED blinked red.
He instantly tried to lose the grip, but the brick just gaped at him and his lips.
Holy shit. He felt unconscious.
And that was the first time that it occurred.
Conner felt like he was breathing an atmosphere of sorrow. His memory receptors projected sounds, which painfully vibrated through his body. Boots sinking into crispy snow, a cry, from a child possibly?
The predator pushed his clumsy hand between Connor's thighs and he froze on the spot. He would have passed out, if his head would not have been full of adrenaline.
Worst of all, was this feeling of loneliness. Blacking out, but still feeling his ugly grip. Water welled up in his eyes and he whimpered like a stray puppy.
Lost.
'Let go of me.'
His goddamn fingers and the glistering of those blue and blown up fish eyes, burrowed it's way into Connor's mind. He wanted to vomit, all over the guy, but skipping breakfast was one of his natural habits.
'Cut it, asshole!' Connor tried to get free again.
But the butt head just fucking laughed at him. Another terrible push against Connor's Pelvis and the predator let go of him.
The handle moved, noises in front of the door.
Those fleshy meaty hands left Connor's body, but the hungry glare stayed.
Hank took the unusual quite android home. They didn't talk, his forehead just rested against the Window. Connor was tired, but too scared if he'd close his eyes he would simply fall apart.
Connor went to bed and woke in the middle of the night, thinking he heard someone cry. The TV was turned on, a documentation about android whales being released in the ocean. Hank must have fallen asleep in front of the Smartscreen again.
And the sound?
It's just the rain, the rain, always the rain. Splashing against the window glass and puddling on the sill.
But still... Connor felt something wet on his face.
The ceiling. Is it broken?
He raised his head to analyze it.
Nothing. No holes, no wet spots. Just some unsettling darkness, that grew with every seconds Connor stared at it.
And if you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you.
Nietzsche. Madness.
Connor's fingertips swiped the droplets away. Himself unaware that this would leave tear stains.
He grabbed another blanket, his temperature sensors were going crazy but Connor felt the need to hide himself.
Hide from the guy, get away from this heavy atmosphere, the world.
A silent sigh left his lips.