Chapter Text
Connor remembers nothing of what happened before he got to where he is. Everything is confused and jumbled, but he quickly pulls himself together. A quick scan tells him he is in Brooklyn, New York. But in 2013, many years behind his time. Confused, he arrives at a coffee shop and sits quietly outside. He must move fast, his protocol works effortlessly, he must survive. He recognises on the GPS the street he is on and sets the plan in motion.
Mission New: Survive.
➧ Get shelter
⧭ Get source of income
⇧ Analyse situation
⟲ Find source of energy
⇧ Analyse situation
Last thing he remembered was going out on a mission on red ice with Hank, then he has a black void inside his memories. He was connected to the grid but then it all disappears and in the next instant he's in the middle of Brooklyn more than a decade ago. With what he had at the time he couldn't find out any more, and he couldn't expose himself in a society where androids didn't yet exist. None of his acquaintances seemed to be online, so he deciphered that he was alone.
He let his instincts act for a moment, turning off his emotions, he had to act, not feel. It was the first of February 2013, Cyberlife had not yet released the first Android prototype (Chloe). He had to live in hiding until he could find a solution and come out later. The most logical thing to do was to go in as an undercover detective, posing as a human.
Creating a past and documents was extremely simple considering the low technology of the time. Connor Anderson, last son of a deceased lieutenant. He was 26 years old, fresh out of the police academy to qualify as a detective. Following the secure line, he sought out the quieter area where he was sitting, which was easy for him. From where he was sitting he generated a past and documents, he had enough time to go and get the physical version. He made a bank account in his name and Connor Anderson appeared in all the records as a young man born in New Jersey and he was calm, the human existed.
.
⧭ Get source of income
That was even easier, he sought out the calmest precinct in the area and generated a fake academy recommendation letter, sending it to Captain Raymond Holt of the 99th Precinct. He determined that the man's background would also make him more inclusive of anything that might happen. He was securing a job that he could fulfill with the world's greatest simplicity. It all seemed simple. The rate of him being accepted as a Detective was over 90%, so he relaxed as much as he could.
➧ Getting shelter
That was even simpler. He found the small amount of technological advancement and poor security in the place he had come to disturbing. Anyone with two ounces of brains and ingenuity could redo their history and start from scratch. Or disappear completely off the map and never be found. He found a cheap, unsecured flat not far from the precinct where the landlord was only looking to take the space, the man was free at that very moment for an appointment to check the place out.
Connor nodded, moving to the flat with the address set on the GPS. After a quick walk and flying to avoid paying for the train, he was in front of the place. It was residential, occupied mostly by low-income families of African descent. The building was old and traditional, it reminded him of the movies, even though it wasn't in Queens it had that classic feel. He got a dirty look, he quickly understood why and entered the place. He was on the third floor, he went up with cautious steps, he could see that several steps were damaged. He spoke little with the man, as he seemed angry; he knew he had to make a good impression. He had a bedroom, a bathroom, a wardrobe, a living room-dining room-kitchen. Small furniture for two people, the exit to the stairs on one side of the building and a lot of dust. It was an ideal place to go unnoticed.
Inmanuel Hans let him stay right away. Without the online network he couldn't access all the men's data as easily, but he could. He was divorced, without custody of his children. Denia a lot of money, he realised that the only trouble this man would give him would be the payment dates. He sat uncomfortably on the couch, letting his emotions resurface a hundredfold again.
He was alone. He didn't know anyone who knew him. He didn't even have a phone. He was all alone, Hank and Sumo were alive, but they wouldn't recognize him. The rest... Oh, Ozul. He looked up the report quickly, ignoring the logic that revealed clear reality to him. Cadogen Ozul Carmichael. He was listed as a second-grader at a boarding school in Germany, seven years old and without the scar on his weird eyebrows. Yes, he was alone. There were still no blue bleeders. He let out a heavy sigh, he had to move, it was almost seven o'clock at night. He was being inefficient.
⟲ Search for power source.
Falsifying more data and bank accounts through mental loopholes, he bought online the basics for his existence for now. A phone, a wallet, a normal suit, a laptop and a charger with a USB port. That would be enough for now. In his gaze appeared the now bland words ‘Mission Completed.’
He didn't want to do a self-diagnosis, he didn't want anything. Just rest to replenish his energy. That time-travelling thing had left him very tired.