GOOD INTENTIONS
ii. LATE NIGHTS WITH AN ANDROID
❝WE MEET AGAIN.❞

SHE WAS LOST IN A WORLD OF HER OWN which was why she hadn't heard the doorbell ring—the incessant ringing, however, continued without a pause. Marisol felt annoyance surge through her when she finally noticed the bell, causing her to stumble toward the door before pulling it open. To her surprise, a familiar android stood there with a blank expression. "Hey, I know you," Marisol started, leaning against the doorframe for support. Normally, she would never open the door to strangers so close to midnight but she was willing to take risks that night. Her eyes trailed up from his new shoes to the black jeans he wore that stayed in place due to the belt around his waist. He wore a freshly pressed white shirt with a black tie. Upon closer inspection, Marisol could see the polka-dotted pattern on his tie. Last but not least, Marisol studied his gray jacket that had his model number—RK800–printed on it in white bold letters. Finally, her eyes flickered to his face. He was watching her with his emotionless brown eyes, waiting for her to continue speaking. "Connor, right?"

It had been three months since Marisol had last seen the RK800 android. In all honesty, she had forgotten about the android and the lengthy report she had written about his performance during the hostage situation. She assumed that her positive report had allowed Connor to join the D.P.D. but that didn't explain why he was at her apartment in the middle of the night. "Detective Mercado, it is a pleasure seeing you again," Connor greeted. He had already done a full analysis of the woman when she had opened the door. She wore an oversized gray t-shirt that had red flowers embroidered into it and red lace panties that Connor had caught a glimpse of. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot and her hair was an unruly mess. He deduced that she had been sleeping prior to his arrival. "Forgive me if I had woken you from your sleep."

"Uh... no, I wasn't sleeping," Marisol reassured, stepping to the side to allow Connor into her apartment. She groaned inwardly, realizing the utter chaos that her apartment was. If someone at CyberLife could see through Connor's eyes, they would definitely judge her for the mountain of pizza boxes and bottles of cheap beer that were scattered all over the place. It had been about two weeks since Marisol took the time to clean her apartment and the mess had been slowly culminating. "I'm sorry about the mess. I'm usually a super neat person, but you've just... caught me at a bad time."

"It is alright," Connor replied, unbothered by the state of Marisol's apartment. He scanned the surroundings and noticed that the mess was only superficial—the apartment could easily be cleaned up within several minutes. He turned to face Marisol again, noticing the dazed expression on her face. "I had gone down to the station to find you, but they told me that you had already gone home."

"Oh, right," Marisol mumbled, taking a seat at the dining table. Her eyes wandered over the dirty dishes that were laid out on the table, but she couldn't find the energy to put them into the sink. She sighed, shaking her head as she looked at Connor's inquisitive expression. Her mind was starting to clear up and was able to comprehend her current situation much better than before. "Not to be rude or anything, but why are you here, Connor?"

"Earlier this evening, you and Lieutenant Anderson were assigned a case—a homicide that involved a CyberLife android," Connor began, moving closer to Marisol. She remembered receiving the case file but hadn't paid much attention to it. "In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators."

"I guess my report worked, huh?" Marisol added, giving him a warm smile. In the back of her mind, she wondered what CyberLife would have done if she had written a bad report. Would CyberLife continue their investigation behind their backs or would they have shut the whole project down?

Connor did his best to return Marisol's smile, hoping to make him more approachable. It would be in his best interest if Marisol liked him and his company. He wasn't sure if she and Lieutenant Anderson—who Connor had yet to meet—would remain his partners, but he would prefer to work with them. After all, Connor had already gathered a vast amount of information on Marisol and it would be unfortunate to start over with someone new. "Yes," Connor finally responded when he noticed that Marisol was waiting on him to reply. "CyberLife was given the green light to proceed in their investigation."

"Have you looked for Hank yet?"

"No, I couldn't find him at the station and no one knew his whereabouts," Connor replied as he casually glanced around the apartment, noticing small details that allowed him to learn more about his partner. His eyes lingered on the vintage cello that sat in the corner of the room. Most instruments were electronic these days, so it was a strange sight to see such a vintage item in mint condition. However, the light layer of dust that covered it did not go unnoticed by the android. It hadn't been touched for months. Next, Connor focused on the bookshelf that was a few feet away from the TV. He wasn't used to seeing physical copies of books anymore since everything was sold digitally, but Marisol owned exactly 445 books—most of them being romance or fantasy books. As Connor continued to scan the room, he noticed the lack of photographs. It gave him no further clues to who Marisol's family and friends were. Strange, but Connor didn't think much of it.

Connor looked back at Marisol after what felt like an eternity to him but had only been mere seconds for the human. He frowned, noticing the exhausted expression on her face. He wouldn't say it out loud, but Marisol looked different than when he met her in August. He deemed that further analysis would allow him to figure out what was off, but he needed to focus on his mission.

He cleared his throat, causing Marisol to snap out of it before her brown eyes met his. "Do you know where we can find Lieutenant Anderson?"

Marisol looked toward the analog clock that hung on the wall above the television. It was half-past eleven which meant that Hank was likely still passed out at the bar. Earlier, he had asked if she wanted to join him, but she had declined his offer. "I'm going to go get dressed and then we'll find Hank. Okay?"

"Okay," Connor replied, watching as Marisol retreated into the bathroom.

In the meantime, Connor decided to clean up the mess that Marisol had made. He bent down, picking up the pizza boxes and bottles of beer before disposing of them. Next, he straightened out Marisol's couch—picking up the discarded pillows before neatly putting them in their respective spots. Then, he picked up the dirty dishes and placed them in the dishwasher. Finally, he picked up the broom and swept up the dirt that covered the hardwood floors. In just under ten minutes, Connor had cleaned the living room and kitchen. Fortunately, the mess in Marisol's apartment was only surface-level. It didn't require deep cleaning that would take hours upon hours. He glanced toward the bathroom, hearing Marisol move in there. She was still getting ready, causing Connor to look around the apartment for something to do once more.

Something caught his eye, causing Connor to move toward the area of her living room where the cello was. On the floor near it, Connor found a crumpled up strip of photographs. As he picked it up, he noticed the glossy texture on the paper. It was thicker than normal printer paper and darker in color. Upon closer inspection, Connor realized that they were sonogram photos. He frowned, causing his LED to spin yellow. There was no sign of a baby in Marisol's apartment so it was unlikely that the sonogram belonged to her. Connor flipped it over, looking at the back where something was written. See you November 1st, Annette. November 1st was exactly four days ago. If this was Marisol's sonogram photo, then she would have been six months pregnant when they had first met in August. However, that hadn't been the case. Connor's senses were more advanced than a normal android's and he would have been able to detect and see if his partner was pregnant, but she showed no signs of pregnancy. So, Connor deemed that the sonogram was not Marisol's.

"What are you doing?"

Connor looked back, noticing Marisol's confused yet skeptical expression. "I don't mean to offend, Detective," Connor immediately stated, not wanting Marisol to be angry at him for looking around. It would be detrimental to the mission if his partner disliked him. "I was just cleaning."

Marisol frowned, looking around the apartment to find it spotless. "Oh, wow, I... uh, thank you? I've been meaning to clean up, but... you know. Time escapes me sometimes. But, seriously, thanks, Connor," Marisol replied, feeling sheepish after she assumed that the android had been snooping around. Marisol did appreciate his help since the mess was starting to bother her. She glanced down at Connor's hands, noticing what he held. "I'll take that."

Without a word, Connor handed Marisol the sonogram photos. She opened a random drawer in her kitchen and tossed the photographs in there. Marisol looked back, noticing the same inquisitive expression on his face as before. He was a curious android, but that probably came with his investigative programming.

"It belongs to my sister," Marisol explained, giving the android a tight-lipped smile. "She had her baby a few days ago, but unfortunately, I haven't had the chance to visit her. She lives in Washington with the rest of my family."

"You have a sister?" Connor asked, curious about Marisol's extended family since he had no information about them.

"I actually have three sisters and two older brothers," Marisol corrected, shaking her head as a small smile appeared on her lips. She remembered how crowded their two-bedroom apartment used to be, but they made it work. Now, Marisol owned a two-bedroom apartment for herself. "I had a really big family growing up and we were all close, but distance makes it harder to stay in touch, I guess."

"Can I ask you a personal question, Detective?" Connor suddenly asked, causing Marisol to frown. She had never heard that one from Connor before and it made her nervous, but she nodded anyway. "Why don't you have photographs of your family?"

She shrugged. "I didn't have the chance to unpack them yet—probably still sitting in boxes."

"Oh, I see," Connor replied, deciding not to question Marisol about her personal affairs any further. "Are you ready to go, Detective?"

"Yeah," Marisol replied, picking up the keys to her car that were in a little ceramic bowl. If she was being honest, she didn't feel well enough to drive or leave the apartment, but she had a job to do. She looked back at her apartment—spotless, thanks to Connor. "Okay, Sansa, I'm leaving. Lock the doors and windows, please."

"Right away, Marisol," the home security system, Sansa, replied and she could hear the clicks of the windows as they locked. She shut the door, making sure it was locked. Marisol checked her phone, making sure that the security system was on and recording. She could never be too careful.

The short walk to the parking lot was quiet as both Marisol and Connor were deep in their thoughts. Connor was in the midst of gathering information about the case while Marisol was thinking about the weather. It was November in Detroit which meant that the weather was rapidly dropping. Winter was a few weeks away and Marisol dreaded the thought of snow and freezing temperatures. Once the two were seated in her car, she blasted the heat. She let out a content sigh as her seat warmed up—the best thing about her car had to be the heated seats it came with. Marisol was about to pull out of the parking lot, but Connor's voice stopped her.

"You should put a seatbelt on," Connor reminded, staring expectantly at the seatbelt that was dangling by Marisol's side. "Did you know that the use of seatbelts lowers the risk of death by forty-five percent?"

Marisol couldn't hide her amusement as she reached over and put the seatbelt on—much to Connor's delight. "Anything else I should do before we leave?"

Connor took her question seriously as he looked around the car, trying to find anything out of place. "No, we can proceed safely now."

They fell in silence after Marisol had started driving through the busy streets of Detroit. She could see the abundance of people on the streets as they celebrated into the night—something Marisol hadn't done for years. She sighed, shaking her head. For the past few weeks, her routine had been the same. It was work then home, work then home, work then home. She was getting sick of it. Marisol wanted to go out and get drunk, spend a day away from the homicides that seemed to happen every other day in Detroit.

"Where do you think we'll find the Lieutenant?" Connor asked, pulling Marisol out of her thoughts. His eyes were trained on her, LED spinning a steady yellow. He must be anxious about something, but Marisol couldn't tell what was bothering him.

"Jimmy's Bar," Marisol answered, no hesitation present in her tone. "He invited me out after work, but I had declined. I'm assuming he's still there."

"I see," Connor replied, not saying anything else. He looked around Marisol's electric car, noticing the little toys that were on top of the dashboard. With each moment he spent with the detective, he was learning more and more about her.

Yet, Marisol barely knew anything about the android. She knew his model and functions, but nothing about who he was as a person. "So, what have you been up to for the last three months, Con?"

"CyberLife has been spending their time analyzing and upgrading me," he answered, keeping his eyes on her. "They were given a copy of your report from Captain Fowler and used it to further improve my social skills."

Marisol couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips, finding it flattering that such a large corporation had taken her suggestion for consideration. Though, she remembered the days in her youth when she and Jeremiah would bother Elijah when he was working on his first android. He was always open to her suggestions as well. "So," Marisol started, studying Connor for any differences, "you're an... upgraded model?"

"Oh, no, I am still the same Connor that you met three months ago—serial number 313 248 317 dash fifty-one," he reassured. His tone was warm and Marisol wondered if he was programmed to speak to her with kindness. She had mentioned in her report that she liked how kind Connor was—maybe CyberLife had pushed his niceness levels to the top.

"Fifty-one?" Marisol repeated. They were a few blocks away from the bar and the roads were getting empty as they moved deeper into the suburbs. "What's it for?"

"—the number of bodies that my model has used up." Connor's response was grim, causing Marisol to let out a deep breath.

"Okay, uh," Marisol gathered. "So, let's say that you had been killed on that rooftop... your serial number would end in fifty-two?"

"Correct," he smiled, nodding his head. It was the first time that someone had asked Connor so many questions about himself, but he didn't mind. He enjoyed talking to Marisol. For a split second, Connor noticed something in the corner of his vision—software instability. He frowned, knowing that he would have to run a diagnostic on himself later in the night to make sure that everything was functioning normally. He cleared his throat, deciding to continue his explanation. "Before I shut down, I am programmed to upload my memory so that CyberLife can send in my replacement without much effort."

"Wow," Marisol mumbled, feeling a pang deep in her chest. "I wish humans could come back just as easily."

"Detective, I am a machine," Connor reminded, not wanting his partner to see him as anything else. He was a machine programmed to hunt deviant androids—nothing else. "Imagine you had a laptop or a phone that had broken down. You would easily replace it by getting the same item again or buy an upgraded model. It's the same with androids."

"I suppose," Marisol whispered, shaking her head. She knew that some people easily replaced androids, but it was strange for her. Marisol had grown up with the same Chloe android—the first one that Elijah had made. She had been there when he had brought her to life and taught her how to be human. Marisol had treated Chloe as another sister over the years. She was irreplaceable and... so was Connor.

"Jimmy's Bar," Connor's voice brought Marisol out of her thoughts. She didn't even remember parking the car, but she had. Connor turned to look at her, giving her a smile that had a hint of excitement in it. "Let's go get the Lieutenant."

━ ━ ━

HANK WAS NOT PLEASED TO SEE THEM, but Marisol couldn't care any less about his feelings since they had an urgent case that needed their attention. Marisol wanted to leave as soon as possible since the patrons of the bad weren't too pleased with the sight of an android in their humble establishment. Hank spared them a glance from the corner of his eyes as he took another gulp of his whiskey. "What the hell do you two want?"

"You were assigned a case early this evening—a homicide involving a CyberLife android," Connor responded to the Lieutenant's question before Marisol could get a word out. It was clear that Hank was irritated at the android's presence. Perhaps, Marisol should have come into the bar alone. "In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators."

"Did you know about this?" Hank asked, looking at Marisol with an annoyed expression. She shrugged, not knowing what to say. Three months ago, she would have answered yes, but she had forgotten all about Connor after all that time. Hank scoffed, looking back at the android. "Well, I don't need any assistance—especially not from a plastic asshole like you. So, just be a good lil' robot and get the fuck outta here."

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but I must insist," Connor began, leaning forward to get a closer look at the man. "My instructions stipulate that I have to accompany you and Detective Marisol."

Hank rolled his eyes, lifting the cup to his lips to take another sip. "You know where you can stick your instructions?"

"No..." Connor mumbled, glancing at Marisol for answers since he didn't understand what Hank meant. When Marisol provided nothing but a snicker, Connor turned to Hank. "Where?"

Hank shot Connor a look, wondering how the hell he got stuck with a dumbass machine. "Never-fucking-mind."

"Hank, come on," Marisol pleaded, not wanting to spend any more time in the dingy bar. She could feel the angry looks that the men directed at Connor and it made her feel uncomfortable. Plus, she was exhausted so the sooner they checked out the crime scene, the sooner they would get to go home. "It'll take an hour at most. Please, don't make us beg."

"I ain't coming."

"Seriously?" Marisol huffed, shaking her head. If she had to leave the comfort of her home for the case, then Hank had to as well.

"You know what?" Connor added, noticing that Marisol was growing frustrated as each second passed by. He didn't want her to end up leaving him as well, so he tried his best to convince the Lieutenant. "I'll buy you one for the road. What do you say? Bartender, the same again, please!"

"See that, Jim?" Hank asked the man working behind the bar, a small smirk present on his lips. "Wonders of technology... Make it a double."

"Lovely," Marisol muttered, hoping that the alcohol wouldn't affect Hank too much. He had gotten in trouble before due to him being drunk on the job.

Hank turned to look at the two, giving them an amused look. "So, did you say homicide?"

♡

It's been a little bit over a month since I have updated this story and not meeting my goals that I had for this fic, but I am still proud that I was able to get this chapter written and posted! ☺️ I will have more Connor, Marisol, and Hank content in the next chapter! It's very tense between the three of them, but it'll get better one day! I have already started the next chapter and I am excited to get it finished!

Also, I feel like this fic is lowkey from Connor's POV as well as Marisol's! We don't know a lot about Marisol yet, but it will be revealed slowly! We know as much as Connor knows! AHH, I have so much planned for her character and it's definitely going to be a rollercoaster! What I can say now is that nothing everything is not what it seems! ☺️

━ AMARA
[ CHAPTER POSTED ━ 02.07.2020 ]