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(maybe) i'll adore you;

Summary:

He sees it in simple terms. Objective and completion, nothing else matters. You see it in shades of grey.

Notes:

This is a brief drabble I wrote from Connor's POV during the events of i'll (still) adore you with your hands around my neck enjoy~

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

> LOCATE (NAME)

> DISPATCH ENEMIES

CONFLICTING OBJECTIVES….SELECTING PRIORITY…

:LOCATE (NAME):

The command burns against Connor’s eyes, and he moves with more hurry, with more ferocity. These men are easy, too easy, the same way all humans are. Fragile and weak. Quick on fear and slow on recovery.

They’re like matchsticks under his unyielding hands; vulnerable and breakable far too easily.

Connor wonders, briefly, if he was human whether he would feel anything as he watches another man die. Blood flows so easily around him, always has, and the idea of feeling emotional about it does not compute. Never has. You feel differently, however, sometimes you get this look in your eyes that reminds him that killing is more than just a mission to you.

He sees it in simple terms. Objective and completion, nothing else matters. You see it in shades of grey.  

Still, that does not mean he particularly enjoys breaking the mercenary’s knee (soft; so soft it’s like butter even though it should be hard and strong), or shooting him and his friends point blank. They are simply in his way, and Connor needs to focus on his mission.

Bang.

He pauses, his sensors whirling wildly as he turns to look over his shoulder. The mercenary crumples like someone has cut invisible strings holding him up. As the body falls to the floor, you appear in his line of sight—arm raised and glaring, bruised and strong—and something in his program shifts uncomfortably.

LOCATE (NAME) 

CHECK ON (NAME)

He follows the objective obediently because he feels odd, and uneasy even though the mercenaries are dead and gone. You protected him, and even though he would simply come back in case of his demise, the idea of you protecting him lingers just below the surface.

The uncomfortable shift becomes a burn when he sees you stumble unsteadily, and he does not feel lenient or merciful as his arms wrap around you. If these men damaged you beyond repair…

If they made you bleed

Your voice is scratchy, almost nasally as you joke with him, however. Some raging part of him relaxes, loosens at your voice. At the knowledge that you are not seriously injured. Only bruised in that simple human way that will heal with time.

Nevertheless, he scans you three times, making sure the bones are not damaged. Mission parameters flash before his eyes, and he selects and dismiss them as he sees fit. He calculates the best way to get you to safety from here, and tries to focus.  

However, there is a small part of him that lingers on your weakness. It never fails to astound him—the fragility of humans, the fact that so much pain and vulnerability could come from something so little. Easily exhausted, even more easily destroyed. He could ruin you so effortlessly if your roles were reversed—if he was a hunter instead of a protector.

But he is your protector, that’s his mission, and he folds you into his arms where he knows no harm will ever befall you. He feels you curl against his chest, warm and alive.

His mission. The only thing Connor knows, the only thing he has ever known.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^^^    

Human. Weak. Prey.

That’s all you were. Just another mission, another face that will fade away to obscurity eventually.

I do know.”

That day some dark, vengeful voice buried deep within him, scratches its way to the surface for the first time.

The only prey worth protecting.

Notes:

I do have a sequel for this story in works if I just get off my butt and actually write it

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