~Connor~
"Chris!" Reed called, exiting his car before the engine had time to cool. "What happened?"
Hank and Connor followed behind him. Chris looked visibly shaken as sweat lined his brow. Connor and Hank met them at the edge of the brick-lined fence. Connor caught Hank staring at the bandage on his neck. He had hoped his injury would go unnoticed...but Hank had eyes.
"Chris, what the hell do you need? We're in the middle of an investigation." Hank asked as a vein protruded from his forehead.
Connor examined the property, catching the sound of something whimpering in distress.
"Sorry, Lieutenant. We're still behind on calls for android collection. Tina was with me before getting called to deal with a domestic violence case. I thought this would be a quick android body retrieval, but I cannot get in."
"Why the hell not?" Reed questioned as Chris rolled his eyes.
"The first floor doors and windows are all blocked. Plus, I think there's a baby inside." He admitted sheepishly, heading to the front door. "Neighbors said they just had a kid."
"Fuck," Hank exclaimed as Reed pulled out his gun and aimed it at the front door.
"Put that thing away," Hank ordered.
Connor took a step forward as he scanned the exterior of the home. Propped up against the door was an android holding an infant.
"Reed, there's an infant on the other side," Connor confirmed.
Reed tucked his gun away, before peering into a side window.
"Chris call it in and Connor see if you can get another way," Hank ordered.
Connor found an upstairs window that did not properly lock. "Second bathroom window," Connor informed Hank.
Chris had made the call to have the android pick-up crew in route, while Connor ascended the home. He called for an ambulance, fearing that child might be in poor health. He climbed into the bathroom window and immediately heard the muffled cries of an infant.
"Connor, be careful," Hank shouted as Reed tried prying open a downstairs window.
Connor peered around the bathroom, it was clean and undisturbed, which was odd. As he stepped into the hallway, Connor detected death in the air. It was too calm, and eerily clean, even by his standards. The upper floor consisted of three bedrooms and two bathrooms. He had entered through the guest bath, while one of the bedrooms had been converted into an office and the other was stereotypical of an infant. Connor glanced into the last bedroom, the master, bedroom, and stopped mid-stride. Lain across the bed was a deceased person. Blood splatter and brain matter carelessly clung to the sandy-colored walls. A pool of dried blood had formed a perfect circle on the floor next to the bed. It was the only unkempt room from what Connor could tell. Connor dipped two fingers into the dried blood. He identified the deceased as Patrick Wright.
Connor assessed the scene before shuttering as flashbacks of Hank lying unconscious on the ground made his artificial heart pound with anxiety. He had been so worried that Hank had died that night that he clumsily fell through the window. He had acted altruistically despite his programming. It was not the first time Connor had done something out of character. He had saved Hank on the rooftop that day, too. But it was Connor's earliest memory of saving that dwarf gourami fish that made him think that he had been deviant all along.
"Connor!" Hank called from outside.
"Coming Lieutenant," Connor replied in default.
He wished he could erase the bad he had done, but hold onto the memories of his self-discovery without them causing him such pain. Nevertheless, he was grateful for every experience he had with Hank as it was as dear to him as it was sad.
Connor hurried down to the first floor where he saw a deactivated AX400 cradling an infant. Its body was frozen in time against the front door. Ignoring Reed's repetitive kicks, Connor knelt to assess the infant. Its vitals were low. A possible 48 hours without sustenance, nor a diaper change that had caused a rash. The poor thing was suffering from starvation. He took several photos of the scene before carefully manipulating the baby out of the android's death grip. Then, he moved the android aside, opening the door for the others.
"About damn time," Reed groaned, stepping over the android without care.
Connor watched as they simultaneously shielded their faces from the stench of death that stained the air.
"Agh, fucking hell," Hank complained, watching Connor's expression somber as he moved in sync with the now docile infant.
"Homeowner?" Hank asked.
"A Patrick Wright," Chris replied with his tablet in hand.
"Patrick Wright, an android repair technician deceased. Suicide. Single gunshot to the head," Connor informed calmly.
"Goddamn it," Reed shouted as Chris darted up the stairs.
Connor took the liberty of calling the mortuary and forensics team.
"Connor call CPS," Hank ordered.
Hank secured the lower level of the home before grabbing the diaper bag from the AX400. Connor stood mesmerized by the tiny life he held in his arms. He felt Hank's inquisitive gaze on him.
"Relax," Hank instructed. "Here, let me," Hank took the infant in his arms.
Connor watched as Hank wiped her down thoroughly, the female infant was quiet as she was all out of tears. Hank changed her diaper and clothes before preparing a bottle and handing her back to Connor. He grinned down at her as Hank shuffled them outside.
"Feed…then burp her once she's finished," Hank instructed. "What do you think happened?"
Connor pulled up Patrick Wright's public database records and shared them with Hank, Reed, and Chris. The smell was getting to Chris and Reed. Hank ordered them out for a reprieve.
"Victim's wife died November 9th, 2038. She was shot and killed by an android during the Jericho raid," Chris said, reading off the information that Connor had gathered. "Funeral services were held two weeks ago."
Everyone stood in unmovable silence just beyond the front door. Connor's LED spun red as his face drained of color. This had all been his fault.
"Kerri Wright age 34, and mother of one, Kairi Monea Wright, born prematurely June 18, 2038." Chris continued. "Looks like Mr. Wright had just lost his job as a software developer for CyberLife just two months ago."
Connor read that Mr. Wright had been seeing a therapist for his depression, and the death of his wife had been the final straw.
"What about the android?" Reed asked, kicking the foot of the android.
"For fuck's sake, Reed, don't tamper with the fucking evidence," Hank chastised as Reed waved his hands in the air like a belligerent child in protest.
"It looks as though she was about to take off with the baby," Chris observed.
Connor just stood there, cycling through the moments that led up to Mrs. Wright's death. He could see her face, but he could guest.
"To where? The city has been on semi-lockdown for weeks now. They wouldn't have gotten far." Hank gazed settled on Connor, who had not spoken.
Connor noticed that Reed and Hank were eying him strangely.
"Tin can, haven't you seen a fucking baby before?" Reed harassed.
"No," Connor replied softly as he shook his head.
With his index finger, Connor softly petted her tiny ebony-skinned legs. He had never seen a baby this close up before. The birth rate was at an all-time so infants were rare. Android children were the new craze, and Connor did not understand why. Infants were so priceless. There was only one Kairi Monea Wright and hundreds of YK500 models. Human infants were small and fragile, the way he imagined Hank and Sumo had been in their infancy. Connor reacted as Kairi wiggled in his arms as if to get comfortable. The same way Sumo often did.
"Fucking brats grow up to become little shitheads that piss away your life savings." Reed cocked a wild smirk at Connor, who now wished the EMT would have taken him to the hospital instead of allowing him to walk free.
"You would know," Connor teased to the uproar of laughter that oddly suited the strange circumstances.
Chris jotted down a few notes on his tablet before walking over to Connor.
"How much time before the ambulance gets here?" Chris asked.
"Approximately, seven minutes, shall I call CPS?" Connor asked.
Chris and Hank nodded.
Not even thirty minutes later, Connor had to hand off the infant to the EMT thought it best to take the infant to the hospital for overnight care. The CPS worker agreed.
Chris and Reed were waiting for the clean-up crew, while Hank and Connor watched as the EMTs brought Kairi out for him to say goodbye.
"Lieutenant Anderson," the CPS worker called over.
Hank shuffled towards her, Connor could see that the chill evening air was nipping at his fingertips. If it was bothering Hank, it was definitely bothering the infant too. So, Connor would have to make his goodbyes brief.
"I've given my information to your partner here," she gestured.
Hank glanced over to Connor, who was running a finger down the infant's face as she cried while in the arms of the EMT.
"Great, we'll be in touch. Hopefully, we can locate some close relatives," Hank added.
"Likewise, we will try to find her a safe place. Not many people are interested in caring for infants these days." She stated in an honest tone.
"It will be strange to see what normal looks like after all this," Hank stated and Connor could not help but agree.
Even with a database at his fingertips, Connor was navigating new territory. He wanted to ask Hank, so many questions. But each time he opened his mouth to speak...he stopped. He had already caused so many problems for Hank that he did not want to add to the already lengthy list. Connor watched as the EMT and CPS vehicles drove off, his heart and mind in turmoil as he pondered his next move.
"Connor, you ready?" Hank asked.
"Coming," Connor hurried to Hank's side. "Shall I drive?"
"No, I got it," Hank responded.
The day was nearly over, and they had little to nothing to show for it. Hank stewed as he waited for Chris to have him sign off on his case documentation. Reed was smoking near the street, watching as the android removal crew loaded up the truck, which was nearly full. The coroner was carrying out Mr. Wright when Hank finally received Chris's report. He signed off and sat in the driveway for a bit to ensure Chris's safety. It was not going to be their last case of this nature, and it definitely was not going to be their last.
Connor sat in the passenger seat, compiling data. It was better for him to stay out of sight now because their presence had caused a bit of disturbance in the neighborhood. There were protests three blocks over and Connor hoped that they would stay there. He watched as the android haul drove off, it was not something he liked to see. However, there was only so much that Connor could do.
Deactivated androids were popping up all over the city, reports of malfunctioning androids, and strange behavior had become the norm in just a few days' time. Campsites were being deconstructed but the android body count had steadily been on the rise. It was the DPD's job to find out why. Even Markus had reached out to him and wanted answers as well more time to gather the androids that had committed crimes and whose owners were pressing charges.
Now, Connor wondered just how much the RK900 model might have been involved in the odd things occurring around the city. He wondered how he could do his job with so much animosity lingering over him. It did not help that he had been keeping so much from Hank either. Not just the destruction of his counterparts, but his stint with the creator of androids himself. Connor had reached out to Kamski, hoping to keep a low profile. Why not? He had thought at the time. Kamski had remained out of sight for nearly a decade. At the time it seemed perfect.
It was everything but. Connor did not want to think about it. Besides, it was better now, he was better now. Hank had been trying to reach him for days, just to check on him. When they finally connected, it was as if fate had sent him a peace offering. Connor knew from the moment he walked in that he was finally home.
Connor caught Hank staring at him in his peripheral.
"Are you okay?" Hank asked, leaning into the car window.
"Of course," Connor replied partially truthful as he smiled back at Hank.
Connor knew he would have to tell Hank everything one day, but not today. Not today.