The day had started out normal. Almost too normal. Connor woke Hank up at the normal time. He had a normal breakfast. There was the normal amount of activity at the precinct. They got called out to a normal case.

Then everything went sideways fast.

They weren't even confronting a suspect. Hank and Connor arrived at the apartment complex to ask a potential witness a few questions. It was a rather run down place, just a few termites away from being condemned, but they were there for a person, not architecture.

"Anthony Sawyer," Connor was telling him. "Caucasian male, Age 36. He is an accountant at Freeport Industries. Criminal history includes one account of public intoxication and a ticket for double parking."

"Hell of a lot better than the assholes we usually deal with," Hank mused.

"Agreed." Connor held the door open for him as the two of them entered the complex. The lack of security spoke volumes for what kind of place this was. Hank found himself wondering what any self respecting person with a decent job would be doing living here.

"We sure this guy's a witness?" Hank asked as they stepped into the elevator. He pushed the button for the 4th floor. It shuddered for a moment before slowly lurching upward.

Connor nodded. "According to the security drone footage, Mr. Sawyer was at the park at the time of the shooting. At the very least, he heard the gunshot."

"Fair enough," Hank conceded. The elevator let out a soft ding before the doors slid open allowing them to exit on the floor they needed. "It was room 418, right?"

"That is correct."

The two made their way down the hall side by side, only stopping once they reached their destination. Hank raised his fist and knocked on the door twice, swearing softly as his hand met a splinter with the second contact. He pulled back, simultaneously waving off Connor's worry and sticking his wounded hand in his mouth.

"Detroit Police," Connor called for him, turning back to the investigation. There was a sound of someone shuffling around on the other side for a few moments followed by silence. Connor knocked on the door this time. "Mr. Sawyer. We need to ask you a few questions about the shooting that occurred earlier this week," he tried again.

"Go away!" The person on the other side of the door demanded suddenly.

Hank rolled his eyes, not in the mood to deal with this bullshit today. He began moving forward to knock on the door again, but Connor stopped him. He took in the kid's pensive expression and his gut instantly told him something was wrong.

"That doesn't sound like-" Connor stopped his sentence short, a clicking sound reaching their ears. The android recognized what it was before Hank did.

He didn't have time to react before Connor was pushing him aside. Hank hit the ground hard as the door exploded in a barrage of bullets.

"Fuck!" He swore, curling in on himself on instinct to make himself a smaller target. His hands pressed to his ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise. Dust and splinters filled the air making it difficult to breathe.

Hank's ears rang uncomfortably even as the shooting stopped. He felt dazed, and there was a sharp pain in his head.. "Hank!" He strained to hear Chris's voice over the radio. "Were those gunshots? Are you ok? Respond."

He coughed, reaching for the receiver, glad he had brought both it and backup. He shouldn't have needed it. This was supposed to be a routine questioning. "Shot's fired," he confirmed, coughing again.

The remains of the door burst open, their witness-turned-suspect bolting from the room. Hank grabbed for him, but the man pushed back with more force than was reasonable for some shitty accountant. "Shit!" Hank cursed as he fell back. He got to his knees, calling back into the radio. "Suspect on the run!"

Another cough and Hank knew there would be no point in him attempting to pursue the suspect himself. The guy was way too fuckin fast. He could barely breathe, and they were already way too far ahead. He wasn't as young as he used to be.

Hank turned, expecting to see Connor already in motion to pursue. What he saw instead caused his heart to falter.

Connor hadn't gotten up.

He was sprawled on the floor where he had fallen. A pool of thirium slowly expanded beneath him.

"Connor!" he shouted. The suspect was practically forgotten in the echo of realizing the android had been hit. He rushed to the kid's side, adrenaline moving him faster than he thought he was capable.

"Hey, hey. You're ok kid," he told him. He cradled Connor's head gently, trying to assess the damage, cursing himself for not knowing more about how android's worked. "You're ok," he repeated. "I'm here, I've got ya."

"H-Hank," Connor choked out. His soft brown eyes blinked up at him, unfocused and scared.

"Yeah, it's me, I'm here," Hank assured him. He tore his attention away from his kid just long enough to radio for a technician. "We're gonna get you patched up. You're gonna be ok," he insisted.

"Hank," he called again. Connor's voice cut off with a cough. It was thick and wet, not like the dusty ones Hank had been experiencing from the sawdust in the air.

"It's ok," he cupped his face gently, silently begging emergency services to hurry the fuck up. "You don't need to talk. We're gonna get you patched up good as new, alright?"

"Hank, it's not," he coughed again, this time blue blood speckled his lips. A metallic echo resonated in his voice.. "H-h-he's not-" Connor tried again. But that was all the further he got before his voice died away.

"Connor?" Hank prompted, but received no response. What little focus his eyes had faltered and his body went limp in his arms. "Connor! No, hell no. You can't die on me son. You're gonna be fine, just hold on."

Hank's vision began to blur as tears filled his eyes. "Just hold on. Please," he begged. But he knew. As painful as it was, he knew it was already too late. The LED on his temple stuttered red for a second longer before darkening permanently. He cradled Connor desperately, as though somehow holding him could keep him there. "Please, son, don't go."

The emergency services arrived, too little too late. Hank paid them no attention, grief numbing his senses. He could barely see as the technician pulled Connor's body away from him. Barely hear as they declared him dead on arrival. Barely feel as a paramedic wrapped his shoulders with a shock blanket. The only thought that ran through his head was that this couldn't be happening. Connor couldn't be dead.

He couldn't have lost another son.

Someone guided Hank from the apartment complex. Someone took him to a hospital to see to the superficial injuries he had sustained, but for the life of him, he didn't give two shits who it was. It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Connor was gone.