[theres a fire over the mountain & we're downwind of it and it's super close so Pray 4 me and the safety of our tennis match tomorrow]

Lieutenant Weekes trudged home at midnight, alone. He'd been stuck at the station for hours trying to pinpoint Brendon's location with the FBI, trying his best to throw them off its trail. He ultimately succeeded, but then he was left without a partner and someone to keep him company.

Shane was waiting at the front door as soon as it opened, tail wagging and smacking the wall. "I was gonna get you some more food today," Dallon rubbed Shane's ears and followed him into the kitchen, "but Pete was being a jerk and wouldn't let me leave until 10 minutes ago. They didn't even need me there, I wasn't going to tell them squat."

He sat at the table, Shane laying across his shoes. "I hate to admit it, but I miss that stupid hunk of junk. You do too, don't you buddy?"

A slight breeze drifted through the house, enough to send a chill down his spine. Shane didn't seem to mind the cool air, but the glass scattered across the living room underneath a broken window was definitely a safety concern.

Immediately, Dallon knew the only thing that would do something destructive and careless like that, was Brendon. The curtains had been torn and the blinds were twisted and contorted in such an extreme way they would never look the same again.

With a loud sigh, he grabbed the notepad from the kitchen drawer and flipped back to the To-Do list. His intention at first had been to jot down a reminder to get the window fixed and curtains replaced because in the end the task would slip his mind and spiral down the drain.

Then he found the note Brendon had left, and his new intention was to search the entire house and find what the android had stolen from him. Shane bounced along happily behind him while he sprinted to the bedroom.

The closet door was wide open, the once organized contents hanging off each other and scattered across the carpet. Not that it mattered because the floor was always covered in laundry and whatnot, but it was upsetting to know it'd gone through all his belongings. He had nothing to hide, but what had it seen?

"The toaster was going to Jericho," he told Shane, "so he's looking for clothes to make him look like a deviant." He paused. "Why did he look in my closet? I don't dress like I'm homeless — do I? Shit, I do, don't I?"

After sifting through dozens of jackets and old pairs of jeans hiding pairs of scratched boots, he decided he did dress like a homeless person, and Brendon going to his closet was completely justified.

Dallon was unable to pinpoint exactly what it had taken, because every article of clothing looked similar, but it didn't matter. As long at it blended in and didn't die again, it was fine. He worried though, because Brendon wasn't a deviant, and had a large margin of error to get murked by a gang of emotional androids.

He sat down on the end of his bed and picked up the folded CyberLife jacket it had left behind for him. There were stitches in the material where various bullets had ripped through, which he found funny that a loaded company like CyberLife could produce thousands of androids and give their most advanced prototype the same jacket again and again. A slip of paper fluttered out and on his lap when he held it out in front of him to search for anymore patches or thread.

"If found deactivated or damaged, please return to Lieutenant Dallon Weekes at the Detroit Police Station."

Dallon smiled. He kinda liked Brendon.

[Start the song if you want to]

At the bottom of the pit that appeared to have no end, there was in fact a large net that caught Brendon before it slammed into the cement below. Immediately after sitting up, it was face to face with another android leaning too close for comfort. It's hair had been dyed bright red and trimmed on the sides, wearing a beat-up olive green jacket a few sizes too large.

"You're the new model that was issued to the Detroit station," it reached for the baseball bat strapped over its back, "how did you find this place?"

"5 androids were killed for breaking and entering a CyberLife production building. I was able to reactivate the PL-600, and it gave me the directions to locate your base and assist in any way I can."

It let go of the bat and smirked. "They hoped they'd be able to contact you. I'm Josh. I was a PJ-500"

"RK-800. I'm usually referred to as Brendon." It held out its hand for Josh to either shake or help it out of the center of the net, but instead it pulled Brendon into a tight hug, eventually setting it on the ground.

The deviant was agonizingly touchy. As it led Brendon down the dark hallway, it hummed quiet tunes and refused to let go of Brendon's hands, running its fingers along the hem of Dallon's old jacket, twirling the loose string on the sleeve.

Brendon was decently concerned. It wasn't determined whether or not deviants could detect others like them or if they were able to pinpoint those that had yet to deviate. Perhaps Josh was purposely the first android it met, and it figured out Brendon wasn't like them and planned to deconstruct it and use the spare parts for renovations on older models.

The light at the end of the tunnel was gladly not the spot where it would be torn apart. The dimly lit hub of the underground headquarters was occupied with at least a dozen androids, more definitively roaming through the halls branching away. The walls had been painted in Thirium, large letters etched on every inch, "We are alive."

"This is the main area," Josh pointed to the halls in one large motion, "and those all lead to other places. There're signs next to them so you don't get totally lost. I think we should go to the infirmary first — it's kinda important."

The infirmary was an AWESOME SKATE PARK where they all recovered by performing kickass tricks and flips woaho sick bro

The infirmary was small and cramped, packed with white sheeted mattresses only inches apart, some separated with tattered curtains hanging from the ceiling. The androids in the non-secluded beds were only suffering from minor injuries, a few missing an arm or a leg. A handful appeared to be recovering from only a laceration or a spike in software instability.

As Josh led Brendon down the aisle in the middle of the room, the ones that were awake turned to stare in amazement at the best android CyberLife had created, being pulled through their sanctuary.

3 other androids were crowded around a bed at the end of the room; the curtains were stained blue with Thirium, and a cart of new assorted parts had been pushed just out of reach. Collections those must've been the purpose of the robbery of the CyberLife production building.

"How's he doing?" Josh immediately latched on to a WR-600 with dark hair and cold brown eyes as it released Brendon's hand, wrapping it in a loose hug.

Brendon recognized the deviant they'd all gathered around. It was the first android it'd been given the case file to during evaluation at CyberLife, assumed dead after being shot multiple times and falling into one of the manmade lakes built for aesthetic purposes. Connor was the most famous case of deviance, the original RK-800, and it'd been missing for over a year.

A KL-900 held the newest biocomponent in its hands. It's blue eyes stared blankly as it set the device down and its fingers moved to twirl the loose strands of black hair that hadn't stayed in a braid. "None of these parts are compatible. He's not going to make it."

Josh grabbed its hand and squeezed. It was like Brendon wasn't there anymore, no eyes were on it. "You did your best Sarah, it'll be okay—"

"It won't! 5 of us died to get these and none of them work! He's gone, Josh, we couldn't do it. I said he would shut down in 2 weeks, 3 weeks ago. He's dead, and so is the leader of this whole operation." Sarah yanked its hand from Josh's grip.

The WB-200 closest to Connor had its head buried in its hands. Sizable dents littered its forearms. "I just want to know what we're going to do," it sat up to glare at the WR-600, "because Tyler won't take his place and do thi—"

"Oh, why don't you do it, John?! Like they're gonna listen to an android that used to trim trees and mow the lawn in the park!" Tyler lunged forward with its hands balled into fists but Josh held it back, all the while still grasping for Sarah's hand to try to console her.

"If you guys even noticed, I found the RK-800," Josh locked eyes with Brendon, "and he's here to help. He's the one Connor was talking about."

They all turned to stare at Brendon, all concerned and slightly confused. "Are you sure?"

"He's who they were trying to reach, and they did it. He's like us — aren't you? You're here to finish what Connor started?"

They all waited for an answer. Brendon couldn't tell them it wasn't a deviant, because that was false as far as it could tell. But it'd gotten to thinking after the fight on the rooftop, pondering whether or not it was truly alive, if it was really empathy that stopped it from killing the deviant on command. Lieutenant Weekes had shot it for a reason, but was that just a suspicion, or was he right?

Why had it taken such a liking to Dallon? Why did it care so much about a human, why had it taken so many bullets for them? Why did it go through so much trouble to please people that despised it, why did it continue on while protesters threatened to tear it to pieces? It came back time after time only to die again and again by sacrificing itself for someone that hated it with all their heart.

Why was it so tired of being treated like a piece of plastic? It was unhappy hearing the blatant dislike from humans it was unfamiliar with, humans who did not understand there was a breaking point even for androids.

Why did it stay with its partner that wanted nothing more than to have nothing to do with it? Why did it put so much effort towards caring for him and what was the purpose of those times when it scanned twice more than usual to ensure Lieutenant Weekes was emotionally stable and in an adequate physical condition?

Why was it so tired of being alone? There had to be something more. It wasn't just a machine.

"I'm not here to finish it. I'm here to lead a revolution."

John's frown faded to a soft smirk, Josh was trying to hold back a smile. Tyler was just as relieved as Sarah, even though she was still trying to hold back her upset over the passing of the android it'd put forth so much effort toward to save.

Brendon took one last look at the deceased deviant before turning and marching down the infirmary aisle to the main entry to find the hallway it should go through next to take Connor's position.

Brendon was tired. He was upset at the mistreatment and hatred, furious at CyberLife for choosing to send him back for deactivation when he'd done nothing wrong.

He was angry, and he was going to finish what Connor had started.