His mind wandered in and out of consciousness, reality coming in as sharp as the cold of a snowflake when it touched skin and fading away just as quickly as when it melted against warmth.

'Why' was his first thought. Why was he still alive? Why was he in so much pain? These questions burned in him; that is, whenever he could light the furnace of his mind long enough for anything to burn.

'Who' was his next question.

K blinked a few times, and all he saw was the grey-black dirty concrete ceiling above him and a similarly-colored pillar to his left. The tell-tale sound of water dripping echoed in one ear, and he gasped as he slightly twisted his torso, the right side of his gut flaring in pain. Vaguely, he remembered a piece of shrapnel sticking out of it, but he ignored that memory as he twisted his head to the right.

He was greeted by the admittedly lovely sight of that one female prostitute. The replicant that was undeterred by the fact that he was a Blade Runner. The one that he had sex with, as part of Joi's plan…

K's eyes shut as he forced himself to not think about Joi. About her. In fact, she was now an 'it'. He was not going to think about it. The way it had pleaded, begged in fact, for the other replicant to show mercy. That was not something he was going to deal with.

"You're awake," she murmured, kneeling by his side. "Shh," she gently whispered as K struggled to get up. "You're safe here. We mean you no harm."

Taking a deep breath – and ignoring the fact that it rattled his ribcage and sent a searing pain through his chest – K stopped struggling, having pulled himself into a sitting position. He stared at the female replicant beside him, taking in her features as he did his best to re-orient himself. The room was dark, and the ground was flooded with water. A small amount of light came through the small, barred windows that were high up on the walls, but as far as he could see, there were no visible exits.

"Why?" K croaked out, his voice rusty and his throat sore. He felt around, searching a for weapon, anything he could use, in case he needed it.

"You're still needed," she whispered back, her light blue eyes staring straight at K. There was movement behind her, and she turned to see another woman, one much older, approach, flanked by several men. She stood up, pulling her fake fur coat around her as much she could, before turning to K quickly.

"Please, trust me. You have nothing to fear from us. I promise."

Contrary to K's good sense, he felt some compulsion to do so. He wouldn't have figured himself to be the kind to fall for a pair of seemingly-innocent big, blue eyes after the strangest one night stand in the history of sex, but maybe he was.

Or maybe that Wallace replicant had just kicked him one too many times in the head.

'Why' was, again, the thought that dominated his mind. Except now, it was about life. Why did he have his worldview thoroughly torn to shreds in the revelation that he was special, only to have that worldview torn apart in the revelation that he wasn't? Why was he constantly misled? Why was he even alive?

K found no answers for any of them, and in light of Joi's demise, the last one seemed the bleakest of them all. Stumbling through the flooded basement, he came to rest on a pillar, slightly out of breath as he struggled with his physical weakness.

"Hey there," a feminine voice floated from behind him. K turned to see the tell-tale faded orange hair and blue eyes of the replicant prostitute.

Why?

Why was she so interested in him? It was one night – a night of intimacy, but only in the physical sense. He had shown no interest in her, and likewise, she had not tripped over herself to leave as fast she could the morning after.

"I would say," she spoke, slowly walking closer to the former Blade Runner, "that I could empathize with you. That if I were a functional, social person, I could understand what you are feeling like right now." She shrugged, wearing a wry grin that suggested more pain than humor. "I can't."

She sultrily closed the remaining gap between them, and before K could realize it, he could feel her warm breath blow onto his lower chin and tight, blood-and-soot soaked shirt. His own breath hitched as he felt himself stiffen – emotional bonds aside, K was not used to close physical contact like this, particularly not of the female variety.

"I honestly can't remember what I was ever meant for," she continued, "so I never cared. My work," her tone changed as she said the word, deepening into bare disgust, "has always kept me occupied, and now… I have the movement to think about." She looked up, and for the second time that day, K found himself staring into endless pools of blue.

"I don't care," K found himself replying. He hardened his resolve when he saw a flicker of hurt momentarily present itself on her face, but continued. "Look… what's your name?"

"Mariette," she supplied.

"Mariette," K continued. "Alright, look, Mariette. We've known each other for, what, forty-eight hours, at most? Really, we wouldn't have ever gotten to know each more if it weren't for that little stunt that Joi pulled." He nearly choked on the name as he said it, but powered on regardless. "I don't know why you keep talking to me, but it's unnecessary. We don't know each other, and I'm perfectly fine leaving it that way."

If the flicker earlier had been momentary hurt, K could only describe Mariette's current expression as stoic. Her lips were pursed and she alternated between staring at the ground or the space past his head.

"You know, I wanted to be nice, to get to know you and help you, but if you're just gonna be an asshole, then I'll leave." She turned, but stopped, before half-turning around with a small look of regret. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you, but sometimes, you just need to roll with the punches and keep going." With that, Mariette strode off, disappearing behind the pillars as she walked away.

K hung his head low. Perhaps he had been overly rude – oh well, it wasn't as if he could give enough capacity to actually care. Not after what had happened. He swallowed hard. Apparently, he had a Blade Runner to hunt.

If push went to shove, he wasn't sure if he could pull the trigger on Deckard. Actually, scratch that – he wasn't sure if Deckard would let him pull a trigger on him.

'Why' was, yet again, what K thought about. But this time, it was simple.

Why was life so unfair?

He had been given 'life' as a replicant to do a degrading and ultimately worthless job, provided the means to live at a subpar standard, and told that his existence was not unique, that he had no greater purpose.

It had been a hell of a day.

K leaned back into the snow-covered steps, his head being cushioned as he stared straight up into the light-grey sky.

Thinking back all the way to the very beginning, K could remember his job clearly. He was a replicant whose sole purpose in life was to hunt and kill other replicants. He had been designed to obey the orders of those above him, to accept this reality as fate and enjoy it. Hardly the path for a life of fulfillment.

His living standards had been low. He had barely enough money to scrape by in a rundown complex, his apartment surrounded by humans that would be more than happy to rip into him, given the chance. He ate shit food every day and he lived in a shit neighborhood. Joy.

Joi. Damn. It had looped back eventually, as it always did. K didn't know what to think anymore about Joi. On one hand, he had his memories of her – real, pleasant emotions that she (or was she an 'it'?) had drawn out from him. Were those mutual, or were they just a pre-programmed response? K desperately wanted to say the former, wanted to say that her "I love you" meant more than just a line of pre-written code.

But he had to face reality. Joi was nothing more than a mass-market consumer product. He was one, in millions, who had her system, had her configured to look and act like that, and had grown emotionally close to her. All it meant was that the Wallace Corporation had done their job well.

Such a depressing thought.

It was only matched by the revelations he had received.

In forty-eight hours, he had gone from believing that he was a standard replicant, made to serve humanity by doing his dead-end duties, to believing that he was the most unique and special replicant in history, born of the love of two parents and brought into the world against all odds, only to learn that he was wrong in his assumptions and he really was nothing more than a standard replicant that had a set of memories somewhat more exciting than most others.

Needless to say, he wasn't sure what to believe in.

Why was he still alive?

That's a good question, K thought, closing his eyes as he felt the wind blow past him.

The snow continued to fall, thawing into tiny droplets of water as it hit his face. Like life itself, one could not hold it forever, for time would inevitably cause it to fade. All of the memories that he possessed, his or not, real or not, would disappear into nothingness, like the snow around him would eventually do…

K breathed out. Perhaps it was not such a bad end. At least it was peaceful.

Then he felt the wind knocked out of him by a body crashing into his.

"Agh!" K yelled, tiredly waving his arms at the sudden weight.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!" a familiar female voice rang out. K opened his eyes, and widened them when he saw Mariette's concerned face in front of him. They grew wider when he realized that Mariette's entire body – of which her face was connected to, thankfully – was on top of his.

"Wh- what are you doing here?" he whispered, barely able to stay aware.

"Never mind that," she harshly retorted, lifting his jacket to examine his stab wound. "Focus on yourself. Were you seriously going to let yourself bleed out here?"

"Thought about it. Wasn't sure if it was going to happen, but I figured that I wouldn't do anything to stop nature's hand." K dryly laughed at his own humor, but Mariette showed far less appreciation.

"This is serious. We'll need you to see a doctor, and def- hey!" she stopped mid-sentence as K's head drooped backward, his eyes slowly closing as the white, snowy world around him faded to black.