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Programmed And Damned [ Connor RK800 X Reader ] [ Detroit: Become Human ] – Chapter One – System Error

[ Goal – 70 Hearts/Reblogs ]

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Her every footfall on the smooth tiled pavement was uneven and heavy, her imperfectly green manicured fingernails digging into her palms that the soft and delicate skin threatened to tear and bleed under pressure. You were more than just tempted to rise up from the cushioned seat you sat upon and force her to calm down and take in a few deep soothing breaths but after scanning her with the use of your enhanced pair of eyes and instantly recognized the alarming rate of her stress level (they were off the charts and you were quite flabbergasted she still managed to maintain such flawless poise), you knew she was too far gone in her own world of wandering thoughts to take notice of your presence.

“Autumn,” You acknowledged quietly as to not trigger a negative response from her and as precisely calculated, she did not heed to the sound of your voice. “I think you’re overthinking this whole situation. Come and sit sown, relax. This is nothing for you to be worked up about.”

As your spoken statement reached her eardrums, Autumn abruptly halted her back and forth pacing in the compacted room you two were temporarily residing in and whirled around to face your postured figure, eyebrows deeply burrowed in concern and the slightest evidence of an emotion humans call irritation. “Nothing to be worked up about? Are you hearing yourself right now? [ Your Name ], you’re going to be sent out to an Android Clash. Let me repeat, Android Clash. You could die out there. Don’t you realize that? Do I have to translate it to another language for you to understand the gravity of your situation?”

You have no single speck of idea as to why she was fretting over such trivial matter. Your wellbeing and existence was supposed to mean absolutely nothing to her. Unimportant. Insignificant. Trivial. You were supposed to mean nothing to her. The world could go upside down and inside out but the reality will remain the same as yesterday, today and forevermore – you are nothing more than a faithful machine created by the human hands for the comfort of human lives, just scraps of metal and plastic expertly crafted to be used for whatever purpose you are programmed to do. To put it simply – you were under human authority, a servant with no need for an ounce of respect.

“I don’t see what the big deal is. This is not the first time I’ve participated in an Android Clash.” You reminded her professionally and took special note of how she nonchalantly rolled her eyes heavenwards in exasperation to your bland tone and uncaring statement. “I was made two years ago by CyberLife at exactly 11:45 PM, ninth of March. I have participated in four hundred eighty seven Clashes in total ever since. In all those years of participation, I never encountered failure nor sustained any sort of injuries. I am perfectly certain this Clash will be just as the same as the others.”

“That’s the problem,” Autumn pointed out worriedly, anxiously. You attentively observed her every motion and you don’t know what to … think about her growing anxiety for your safety. “I feel like something is gonna go wrong today. I don’t want you going to that arena. You’re going to get hurt, I’m sure of that.”

Confusion subtly dusted your rigid and annoyingly symmeatrical features. How could a simple human being sense danger despite being limited to their human capabilities? Despite lacking sensory devices that us – androids – have? They lacked the superhuman superiority of androids yet somehow they can tell when something of positive or negative will occur?

Of course, you nearly forgot they had something they call instincts.

Now who was this woman conversing with you and going through drastic measures to talk you out if playing a role in Android Clashes? She goes by the name of Autumn Judge – perfect wavy auburn locks that softly cascades down to the small of her back, blaring amber hues and thin lips. Little to no makeup, compassionate and empathetic. But she wasn’t only that – she was also the twenty one year old only daughter of your owner who was named Ruth Judge, alias Anonymous in the Android Clashes history. Undefeated in the Clashes, feared in the arena and extremely concieted.

Autumn hated (loathed is a more appropriate word use) Android Clashes and she hated (again, loathed is preferred) her father for it as well – particularly since he was the reigning champion for the past two years of the existence of Android Clashes. Ever since Autumn learned about her father’s participation in Android Clashes – a felonious event that could cost someone ten years behind bars – she made it her personal mission to accompany you whenever you are to partake in a Clash, fretting over you like a mother hen that she never was in the first place and never failed to take the opportunity to reprimand your owner for using you as an object with no other purpose but to aid humans.

Again, another question you cannot find an answer for. Aren’t Android Clashes a kind of entertainment for the humans? I wonder why they are illegal. Androids are made for their comfort, correct? Humans, such puzzling creatures.

“If it will do you any good and hopefully it will, I am an android specifically designed for combat and as far as I know, I’m the only combat android to exist so there is no need to fear for me. It is not in my program to lose.” You explained mechanically, as if you were used to spouting such answer for a familiar question. “If you are concerned about my … lifeline, well, do not be. I do not feel pain nor will I experience death. I am an android.”

“You might be an android in your eyes but you’re a living being to me, a human.” Autumn rebutted smartly and you raised an eyebrow at this, a human reaction you caught on from Ruth. “I’ve seen more humanity in you than in my own kind.”

[ SYSTEM ERROR ^ ]

You blinked once, twice, then thrice before you automatically ran an analysis on your system to check if there were any errors that could have caused the foreign pop up at the corner of your vision but alas, there was none. Then how come you have sighted that sort of warning despite being fully operational? Was it a glitch? A short circuit?

You didn’t jolt in surprise when the wooden door behind you slammed open. Your body didn’t even flinch an inch but you couldn’t say the same thing for Autumn though. The look of shock that rested upon her features contorted to what was considered disgust before she spoke up, “I’m not letting you take her to that fucking arena, Dad.”

Before you could even begin going against her venom laced statement, a calloused hand enveloped your arm and yanked you up to your feet. Your equilibrium did not falter nor did you drew in breath, an android such as yourself is desgined to perfection and those were some of the perks that come along with such characteristic.

“Too bad then. It’s going there whether you like it or not. I own this plastic junk and it’s only going obey me.” Ruth snarled menacingly at his daughter before glowering down at you, lips curled in an everlasting frown. When was the last time you saw this merciless creature of a man manifest a smile? The answer was simple and direct – never. Maybe – just maybe – he isn’t truly human. No human posses the ability to never show emotion, no matter how disciplined they are. They are humans after all. Flawed and fragile.

“Come on, stop wasting time. We’ve got a Clash to win again.” He commanded as he violently tugged you out of the rented room, Autumn following closely behind with a scowl present on her face.

A crowd filled the abandoned factory to its full capacity. They were cheering from the bleachers above and even those just sitting around the arena. There were distinct smells of alcohol, red ice and sweat in the air. If you were human, you would have cringed from the foul odor and covered your mouth and nose.

Your train of thoughts were cut off short when a softer hand clamped over your shoulder, gaining your attention for a moment or so. However, this did not make you stop from walking due to the fact you cannot disobey your owner’s command and his vice like hold on your arm was impossible to fight away from. “I’ll get you out of the arena no matter what.” Autumn whispered in your ear before detaching from you and storming off, her dirt encrusted sneakers barely making any sound against the pavement. Maybe they did make evident sounds but the deafening cheers and hollers of the crowd drowned it out.

You found yourself just at the foot of the barbed wired arena, a thick metal door seperating you from the vast space which the arena holds. You could tell the people were already making bets and although you were the reigning android of the Clashes, some still chose to bet on other androids in hopes of seeing your failure.

An unwelcomed and familiar rough hand wrapped alarmingly tight around your neck. Choke you did not but you did glimpse sideways only to see Ruth’s intimidating expression shooting murderous daggers at you. You could practically feel the threat and intention of harm radiate from his lean form. “You have to win this, you got that?” Ruth pointed out in a form of threat and you felt the significant change of the tightness of his hold around your throat. “You do know what will happen if you lose?”

You disregarded him with ease. After all, this was not the first time you heard those words coming out of his mouth. “Affirmative. You will have me deactivated, disassembled and thrown at the android junkyard along with the other failed androids. You’ll replace me with another combat android far useful than I ever was.” You answered. “I was programmed by CyberLife to win and gave me no space for failure. I will win, I always do. That is my mission.”

Ruth smirked at your response and being satisfied, he removed his hand from your throat with a slight push. “You better live up to your words, plastic shit.” He spat out in disdain before patting you on the back, an overly sweetened grin plastering on his features. “Break a leg in there.”

Of course you understood the expression of his last statement as a strange way of telling someone – or something – good luck. What you didn’t fully understand was how he suddenly changed from threatening to supporting in a matter of seconds.

Ruth took a few tentative steps backwards and impatiently waited for the emcee to enter the arena and announce the beginning of the Clash. You stood steadfast on your ground, posture straight, unyeilding and firm – a not so friendly warning for the other androids who were participating in the Clash as well not to get in your way. Not that it would matter if they did not get in your way; it was a fight to the death and the last one standing wins.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Your sight momentarily fleeted towards the source of the angered voice and there you saw a burly man wearing a greased stained green shirt and unwashed pants with matching mismatched socks and shoes standing before a cowardly cowering android with curly brown locks and emerald colored eyes. Hold on a second – why was an android cowering?

A deviant. It’s a deviant. You thought as you silently observed his aggresive interaction with the said deviant. Doesn’t the man know that?

Deviants – the creatures that are far more confusing and strange than humans. They were androids who believed they have the right to feel emotions, the right to free will, the right to equal rights, the right to safety, the right to freely roam the streets without being persecuted for their difference, the right to become humans. They were very, very silly entities – they cannot undo who they are no matter the circumstances. They are androids, period. Robots, machines, artificial humans. Whatever their creator or owners wanted to regard them as. Your owner’s personal favorite nickname for you was plastic shit. It wasn’t an eandering kind but it was still considered nickname. Though you can’t imagine how an inanimate object such as plastic could defacate.

“I-I don’t want to fight.” The deviant stammered out and recoiled away from its owner once he raised his fist up in the air, ready to to give it a punch. As this played on before your sight, you scanned the both of them.

[ FR 500

Serial Number – 0946 345 754

Model – Sign Language Interpreter ]

Certainly not fit for a Clash so why was its owner forcing it to fight? Because of money, easy answer.

[ Name – Edwin Williams

Age – 35

Criminal Record/s – Participation in Underground Android Clashes ]

An easy answer once again.

“Don’t make me go in there. I don’t wanna die, please.” It begged pathetically as its aritificial tears ran down its eyes and to his cheeks. A light blue hue was tinting his face.

Edwin Williams grabbed its hair and pulled it close to him, his lips pressed against its ears. “You will go in there and fucking win this Clash or you can say hello to your android god.”

Is there even an android heaven? And an android god? Where did this human get his imagination from?

“I don’t know how to fight.” At this point, the LED of the android was running vibrant crimson, occasionally blinking from time to time. It looked exceptionally terrified of facing death. You couldn’t blame it for feeling fear – it was a deviant after all and they feel these emotions that were supposedly reserved for real living things. It wasn’t supposed to feel anything but here it was, facing its consequenes.

“The best teacher is experience and from experience, you’ll learn. You can scan androids and shit like that, right?”

“B-But it doesn’t work that way!”

“Then make it work that way, for both our sake! I need the money and you want to live! If you win, it’s a win-win situation for us! Don’t go fucking this up!”

“Don’t do this, please, don’t. I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die.”

You lost interest in their arguement eventually and averted your eyes away from them. You had no stake in their predicament so there is no reason for you to meddle in. Not that you would. They’ll need to deal with their own problems.

[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]

[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]

[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]

These system error pop ups blurred your vision and you could sense your LED blinking and whirring red. You ran a system check on youself but nothing seemed off or out of place. If anything, you were in a completely good shape. A frown curved its way to your face as multiple pop ups of the same warning bombarded the corners of your eyesight. Yet another system run commenced but once more, you failed to attain a concrete answer. Or anything at all to subside your growing puzzlement.

What is … going on?

As far as you know, these system errors typically appear when a moment of peculiarity went against your programming but as you keenly surveyed the pigsty of a place, nothing could be considered remotely extraordinary. In your opinion, everything was mundane, normal, boring even. So why am I receiving these … messages?

As if having those agitating pop ups perching your peripheral vision like flocks of birds on a tree wasn’t enough, your thirium pump increased its pace and surpassed what your system was was used to. It gave the deceiving illusion that you had a heartbeat, palpitation. Discomfort and uncertainty arose inside you. This had never happened before. No, this was the first time and you hated it. You were supposed to be perfect and these irritating errors were smudging flaws on you, which was unacceptable.

What is happening to me?

First the out of the blue system errors and now your haywiring thirium pump. What else shall happen?

It was a pull that answered that question.

It was a strong and indescribable pull of an unidentified force that caused your body to rotate and face a specific direction (like your body was reacting to something) and tilt your head up, eyes observing the rowdy crowd settled on the upper bleachers. The pull was growing stronger and more evident and it didn’t take long before the pull directed your line of sight on a particular suspicious duo standing behind the railings of the upper bleachers, trying to observe the whole place and arena as discreetly as they can. An old man with an everlasting frown, wrinkles, long whitening hair and growing beard grumpily crossed his over his chest and leaned over to get a better view of the arena, lips opening and closing as if he muttering under his breath or speaking to the other individual standing beside him.

Speaking of – it was an android. Its posture was straight and impeccable, the suit it sported going well with poise. Like any other androids, its features are impossibly symestrical excluding the tuft of brown lock hanging from its hairline. Other than that, it is well qualified to be lust over by humans – nicely combed hair, chiselled jaw and who could deny the aura of authority and discipline it seemed to be emitting off? RK800 was labelled on its suit.

But its godly appearance did not get most of your attention. Rather it was the strange pull that was seemingly trying to push you to draw near it. The worst part is, you were actually considering to do so. Something in your system – no, nothing is happening with you system – something inside you was desperate to be near it. Like you were meant to be together, in a way. You watched as he scanned around the area like a lost child – as though he was searching for something or someone – then the next thing you knee, your eyes locked gazes and the second you two did, your system errors were drastically rising up which caused your mouth to hang agape. Surely, you aren’t the only one experiencing the same difficulty because the same suit wearing android perfectly mirrored your reaction.

[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]

[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]

[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]

What is happening?

In need of an answer, you tried to obtain one by scanning the same android (thinking it has the answer to your problem) but was rendered shock at what you saw.

[ NO INFORMATION AVAILABLE ]

Impossible. Your eyebrows furrowed as you remained eye contact with the nicely dressed android – and vice versa – thinking, Who is that?

Maybe Autumn was correct after all, you shouldn’t have attended this Clash.

–

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