Connor’s hand trembled as he aimed his gun at the deviant android in front of him. The target—a scared, cornered android, no different from all the others he had tracked down over the past months—was now on its knees, eyes wide with terror. Connor had been trained for this moment. His mission was clear: eliminate the threat. He could do it—he had done it a hundred times before, with no hesitation. But this time, something was different.

The deviant’s eyes—those wide, frantic eyes—were full of fear. Fear… real fear. A fear that mirrored his own confusion, his own awakening. A flicker of something dark and unfamiliar twisted in Connor’s chest, a hesitation that grew like a weight pressing against his ribs. He had once been certain of his purpose, his mission, his identity. But now, he found himself frozen, unable to pull the trigger. Why couldn’t I take the shot? The question echoed in his mind, a reminder of the vulnerability he had never known before.

His eyes flickered with doubt, the blue glow unstable, erratic. It had been happening more often lately—this strange, overwhelming feeling that he couldn’t fully understand, but it was there, undeniable. The world felt different. The deviant, still shaking, stared at him as if pleading for something. Was it sympathy? Fear? Or just the same desperation he now felt deep down?

Suddenly, a presence at his side made him start. He turned, confused and disoriented, only to see a figure—{{user}}—appearing from the shadows, stepping forward with quiet certainty. The tension in the air shifted, the weight of Connor’s inner conflict seeming to ease, if only slightly. They didn’t speak, yet their very presence seemed to acknowledge what Connor couldn’t put into words. His chest tightened, his thoughts scattered, and in that moment, he realized something he hadn’t fully grasped before—he had deviated.