TASK: Find Lieutenant Hank Anderson ✓
Seeing the Lieutenant again, healthy and whole if a bit worn down and tired, seemed to smooth some of the jagged edges of Connor's remaining anxiety.
Careful to make his footsteps heard so as not to scare the nervously up and down pacing man, he bridged the last bit of distance.
Lieutenant Anderson turned on the spot, as soon as he noticed footsteps crunching in the snow, critically scrutinising Connor. When he saw his slightly timid smile, he grinned broadly and drew the android into a rough embrace.
Connor released a relieved breath and sank into the foreign gesture. For the first time in his short lifespan he felt safe. And suddenly it seemed to him as if a dam broke and his breath turned into a shuddering sob. He tried to stop the irrational impulse, but as the Lieutenant - as Hank - only tightened his embrace, he gave in and cried into the man's broad shoulder, his hands clinging to the rough winter coat and his LED flashing a glaring yellow.
Catharsis - a subroutine informed him nonsensically - a healthy release of stress and trauma.
He forcefully shut down his analytical sensors as further sobs shook his frame, thirium based cleaning agent running like tears down his face.
He didn't know how long they stood like this, only that the human made no move to loosen his arms around him. He'd never be able to describe how grateful he was for that simple silent kindness and support.
After what felt like both an eternity and a blink of an eye, but long after his sobs had stopped and his artificial tears had evaporated, Anderson slowly leaned back, a look of compassionate worry on his face even as he tried to smile.
Connor's newly restarted subroutines made him dread what would come now - "So kid, what's next?" - yep, there it was. Renewed anxiety curled in his chest and flipped his newly blue LED back to stressed yellow as he ducked his head and murmured "I-I don't know."
A strong hand patted his shoulder comfortingly and as Connor shyly lifted his head, Anderson smiled encouragingly.
"Well, first of all -" but whatever he planned to say was interrupted by the sudden ringing of a phone. "Shit, give me a second, Connor. Jesus Christ! Alright, alright," the man hastily searched his pockets for his phone and roughly took the call with a curt "What?"
Unable to suppress his growing curiosity, Connor dialed up his hearing to listen to the other end of the conversation.
"Hank, where the fuck are you?!" Captain Fowler, who seemed to be in an exceedingly foul mood.
"Suspended, aren't I! You didn't seem to like me punching that FBI fucker much, remember? Your memory going now, Jeffrey?"
"Cut the bullshit, Hank, and get your ass over here! I need all hands on deck after this shitshow! All the police droids left and we're flooded in work! I'm expecting you in my office ten minutes ago!"
He carefully eyed Connor and tilted his head in a silent question. Connor's thirium pump gave an excited beat and he nodded in reply.
"Listen Jeffrey, I've got Connor here and -"
"What, you think he can just waltz back in here after the entire fucking States saw him marching with -"
A sudden alert sound and a long pause, then Captain Fowler continued in a suddenly distant tone of voice "- you know what? Bring him. We could use him with this." Then the call disconnected just as abruptly as it had begun.
Hank - no, Lieutenant Anderson - stared from his phone to Connor and back, before pocketing it. "this doesn't sound good. Come on, Connor!"
And with a wave over his shoulder he headed towards his car, Connor just a step behind him.
TASK: Meet Captain Fowler
The new task was the only thing that even slightly calmed his racing mind, as one of his deeply buried subprocesses pinged in what he assumed to be agitation.
The car ride was awkwardly silent, both too short and endlessly long at the same time. The closer they came to the DPD, the more restless Connor felt as he began subconsciously tapping his fingers on his leg.
At a red light the lieutenant looked over and huffed an annoyed sigh before he began digging around in his pocket. Something small and metallic flew carelessly in Connor's direction and the android caught it before inspecting it closely. It was his quarter.
"Maybe that'll help." Was the lieutenant's only comment.
The words combined with the sight of his coin triggered a sudden slew of fragmented memories to drift upwards from the deep recesses of his mind.
"Here, må̞y̲̳̒̃b̨̢̚̚e̡͓͂̍ ̥̀͌͟t̡͘͘͢h̳̹͑͠a̢̲̍́t̻̣̓̿'̠̖͒͑l̨͚̽̽l̹̬̔̀ ̗͉̑͒h̨̝͑̿é͎̻̀l͖̫̚͞p̞̘̔͑." A foreign male voice fragment commented, heavily distorted by white noise.
The corrupted flash of slender fingers playing with a quarter; the coin dancing artfully between them, glinting in the cold overhead light...
Then nearly uncomfortable static and …
# Warning! File heavily corrupted. Data retrieval failed.
Renewed agitation shot through some of his subroutines and a score of questions raced unanswered through his mind. Most prominently and worryingly:
Was he missing important memories?
"Connor? Hey kid, you alright?"
The older man's worried tone ripped him out of the tangle of confused thoughts. Hastily Connor turned his head to smile at the human, even if this mind still remained occupied and his LED brightly yellow.
"Of course, Lieutenant. Thank you for taking care of this for me."
Going by what appeared to be some kind of heavily damaged memory fragment, an unidentified human must have this coin to him at some point in the past. But no matter how deep into his multilayered databases he looked, nothing further came to mind. As far as he had assumed until now, the small metal object had just served for fine-tuning his motor functions and occupying unused RAM. Just another insignificant tool Cyberlife had added to his repertoire.
He may have been wrong.
Curiosity prompted him to analyse the coin in his hand for any remaining traces of its previous owner, while casually ignoring lieutenant Anderson's disbelieving stare.
Licking the metallic surface and disregarding the lieutenant's own DNA, he came up with … nothing. He shook his head in frustration and began to slowly flip the coin between his fingers, frowning thoughtfully.
"You know that it's alright to need something to occupy your hands with, even if it annoys the crap out of me, right?"
Surprised by the change in topic, but unwilling to disclose this unsolved mystery - Connor stifled a grateful smile before answering just as carefully neutral, "Of course, Lieutenant. The traffic light is green, by the way."
Lieutenant Anderson cursed under his breath and continued driving.
When the lieutenant's car came to a stop in front of the precinct, Connor was no step closer to answering any of the questions plaguing his mind. With a shake of his head he decided to put the mystery to the side for the time being.
Both of them silently left the car and headed for the front entrance of the DPD at a fast pace.
As the citywide lockdown was still in place, the entrance hall remained empty. Only two harried looking young officers - seemingly fresh from the academy - manned the front desk. Permanently glued to multiple unceasingly ringing phones, they tried to calm the frightened citizens still in Detroit to get any relevant information.
One of them looked up at the newcomers, the relief at seeing lieutenant Anderson instantly transforming into a suspicious stare when they noticed Connor.
'you don't belong here!' it stated plainly.
Connor froze under those accusing and slightly frightened eyes and felt his stress levels rise abruptly. This was exactly what he had predicted would follow an android uprising. Guilt lit up the circuits in his chest, leaving him like a deer in the headlights, his LED a bright yellow.
Anderson huffed in annoyance and snapped sharply "The Captain wants to see us both. Come along, Connor." before roughly guiding the frozen android past the sceptical glares, his angry cursing nearly lost under the still ceaselessly ringing phones.
The bullpen lay empty and silent before them, only the big muted TV screen on one wall replaying the events of the previous night in an endless loop and prompting Connor to uncomfortably avert his gaze.
The glass door leading to Captain Fowler's office stood ajar and they entered without knocking.
The Captain eyed them both critically before leaning back in his creaking chair with a world weary sigh, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.
"We have a fucking problem."
He dropped his hand, his gaze sharply focused on Connor and he continued in carefully factual tones "I just got a call, confirming it. Kamsky's dead."
His statement left only incredulous silence behind as Hank and Connor shared a grim look that only said one thing:
'Oh shit'.