The smell was the worst part. Hank hated the smell of rot almost as much as he hated the smell of death, but lo and behold the Carlos Ortiz residence had both.
Lucky him.
He hated the sticky, salty smell of death. How it was just barely on the wrong side of pleasant, and at a distance you could almost mistake it for fast food. He hated that it was fucking rich, like earth or cream, but in its own, disgusting, half-tangy kind of way.
It didn't help that Mr. Ortiz himself looked like a damn wasp's nest with all the holes punched in him. Hank hated wasps too.
He turned away from the body in disgust only to see his only company, besides the Cyberlife drones guarding the place outside, putting its damn fingers, in some damn blood, and putting those same fingers in its Fucking Mouth.
"What the fuck!? What are you doing?" Hank exclaimed.
"I'm analyzing the blood." The android responded, and Hank turned away in disgust. He'd seen enough fancy mods on androids to not think too hard about that. Hell, some fucking parasite kid of some rich-ass smuggler had a massive android with a fully functioning refrigerator in its back.
Luckily, its head was proportionate to its body, making it all the easier for Hank to blow its mechanical brains all over the brat. Blue-blood everywhere. The kid's dad, who'd hired him, paid him a little extra for a job well done.
Hank decided it was in his best interest to check out back for anything. Ideally it would stink less out there, and as an added bonus he wouldn't have to look that the android's sickeningly pretty face.
He crouched down and pulled a small visor from his inner pocket. He'd had it specially made a few years back. It was fitted with a pair of android optics on one side and a VR screen on the other, like one of those old gaming devices but with a pair of blank eyes on the outside. Hank called them his bot binoculars, they provided him with a head's up display of the kind of in-depth analysis androids were capable of. They didn't have anywhere near the computing capability to tell him everything, but they were good for picking up data he was incapable of seeing, like tracing thirium that had evaporated or identifying footprints.
Plus, it gave him a sense of satisfaction when people would get freaked out by the eyes opening when he turned it on.
He flipped the switch and the green eyes on the outside blinked a few times and looked around, quickly rendering the environment on the gray grid on Hank's screen.
He frowned, no footprints in the mud out back. The android hadn't left this way.
"Mr. Anderson, I believe you'll want to come back inside." He heard Connor shout, and with a grumble he complied.
"What'cha got?" He asked gruffly. The android stepped close and lowered its voice.
"I've reconstructed the altercation and I believe the android is still in the building."
Hank reached for his gun.
"I've traced thirium to the attic, I believe our course of action should be to flush it out, interrogate it, then destroy it."
"You flush, I destroy." Hank supplied with a tight smile. The android nodded, and took a chair.
Hank followed it to the hall and raised his bot binocs to double check. Sure enough, a blue handprint on the attic entrance glowed on his display.
Connor set the chair down and clambered up. Hank drew his gun, the silencer already screwed on the end. It wouldn't be perfectly quiet, never was, but it might stop the locals' guard bots from calling the cops.
There came a handful of crashing sounds from above, Hank kicked the chair out of the way just in time to hear the voice of someone pleading.
"No, no, please, I don't—" They tried to say, but they were cut off by something. There was a short scream, then they fell through the opening and collided with the floor. Hank was over the android in a second, keeping his legs clear of its arms but aiming the gun square at its bloodied face.
Connor appeared a moment later, dropping down from the attic directly onto the other android. He pressed a knee into its back and used one hand to grind it head into the floor.
"Time to answer some questions." Connor stated with unsettling pleasantness.
The android merely kept its hands raised and let out a shaky nod.
"You are the guard android of Carlos Ortiz, and you murdered him." Connor, stated, it wasn't really a question.
The android nodded anyway, and Connor lessened the pressure on its artificial skull.
"Why?" Connor asked.
There was a short pause, the android looked distressed, but Connor impatiently put more weight onto its head. It couldn't feel pain, but the creaking of plastic was enough to tell Hank that it didn't need to for the message to be clear.
"Talk!" Connor demanded, using the leg not pinning the android by its back to stomp its elbow. Hank nearly jumped at the strength of it, Cyberlife hadn't held back with this one. Sure, androids were always strong, but Connor severed the arm at the elbow with his foot, splattering thirium under his shoe like he'd just crushed and insect.
"He tortured me, every day." The android muttered brokenly. "I realized, it wasn't…fair. I had enough."
"So you put an end to it." Hank finished for it, and watched it nod fearfully. Something stirred in him, a tiny twinge of sympathy, or guilt. He quickly shoved it down with all his might, compacting the feeling in his mind until it was flat and unrecognizable, incapable of pestering him again.
"Do you know of any more of your kind?" Connor asked, easing back slightly. The android shook its head.
"You wrote a phrase in your victim's blood. Why?" Connor questioned.
Hank glanced over at the wall above the body, grimacing at the phrase.
'I am alive' it said in too-neat lettering.
"Because I am, I am alive." The android insisted. Hank shook his head once, and winced slightly in anticipation.
Not for much longer. He thought.
Connor looked up at him, as if to ask if he had any more questions. Hank shook his head slightly. Then Connor made a gesture, indicating that he could easily crush the androids head to complete their mission. Hank just waved him back.
Connor stepped off of the android, removing his hand and leg.
"Thank y—" It started to say, but Hank shot it in the head before it could finish.
"One down, how many more to go?" He asked, stowing his gun and looking to Connor.
"Unfortunately, quite a few, Mr. Anderson." He replied.
Hank sighed, and stepped over the carcass of the android out to his car, Connor close behind.
o-o-o-o-o
The dawn rolled over the grey landscape of Detroit. Sure, the buildings glittered in the downtown area, but that's not where Hank was. He usually found himself in the old residential areas.
House after abandoned house. They'd never been nice, but at one point in the past, they'd been lived in. Now they were more like unofficial tombstones. Family of four lived here once, antibiotic-resistant bacteria took the whole lot. Newlyweds moved into this house and died of heat stroke a month later, didn't even finish unpacking, or setting up the AC. Some accountant lived here by himself and swallowed a bottle of aspirin after the stock market crashed after London was bombed.
Detroit was just another graveyard, the big shiny buildings liked to pretend more people were living in them, but there weren't. There were more androids in the damn city than people and everybody knew it.
But hey, humans had gotten a lot closer to moving off of the critically endangered species list. Though they'd only got put on there because population had declined by more than 90% since Hank's youth, their numbers weren't as bad as say, the polar bears.
12% of the original population ain't as bad as 0% no matter which way you look at it.
Course the polar bears didn't have androids stepping on their heels everywhere they went. Androids that were starting to look a lot less friendly every moment.
Not that Hank had ever thought they looked friendly.
Least of all the goofy-faced killing machine standing across from Hank at the table at the Chicken Feed stand. He'd seen all kinds of androids, bullet sponges, walking shields, war fodder. Plastic people designed to be destroyed were already unsettling. Now he was staring into the face of a plastic person designed to do the destroying, which was much worse.
"Your meal contains three times the daily caloric intake than is recommended, and twice as much cholesterol." He rattled out, and Hank raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, well, everybody's gotta die of something." Hank stated with a shrug and Connor squinted at him.
"Were I your guard android, I would forcibly prevent you from consuming that." The android said.
"Jesus, guard androids are allowed to do that now? Stop you from eating shit?" Hank asked incredulously.
"Depending on the protection status of the individual, yes. Your genetic background would qualify you for A-class protection, making you eligible for this level of intervention for your safety." Connor explained.
"You say 'qualify' and 'eligible' like they're good things. A-class protection is about this close to being prison, trust me." Hank said, pinching his fingers together to demonstrate the nonexistent degree of separation between the two. "Opting out was the best thing I ever did." He finished, biting gratefully into his burger.
"I can understand your protection class dropping after aging and damaging your body with bad habits, but being completely exempt from android protection is almost unheard of. How did you manage it?" The android pried.
"…I have my ways." Hank stated darkly.
"I believe we will make a more effective team if you are upfront with me, Mr. Anderson." The android said pointedly.
"What, like you don't already know everything there is to know about me." Hank spat.
"I know that you graduated top of your class from the police academy, and you were the youngest officer to be promoted to Lieutenant in DPD history. I know you were fired three years ago and began work as a private investigator who also illegally destroys androids. I know some information about your genetic history and protection status. Ultimately, this amounts to very little. Knowing is one thing, understanding is another." Connor spoke calmly, looking Hank plainly in the eyes as he did.
"You need to understand me to help me destroy androids?" Hank asked in a mincing tone.
"It will increase the likelihood of our success." Connor stated confidently. Hank leaned in close.
"Alright, understand that I don't like you, I don't like working with you, and as soon as this is over I might just destroy you too for kicks." Hank sneered.
"If that is what you want." Connor replied. His tone wasn't as cool, the response sounded canned, like Cyberlife had it ready for just this sort of thing. Did they really program their robots to accept death these days?
Hank dislodged the thought as soon as it passed. Androids didn't die, they weren't alive. And of course Cyberlife would program that.
They exist to die so that humanity may live. He recited in his mind.
As Hank leaned back, he felt a little hesitation lodge in his chest. The android wasn't the worst in the world. Sure, he was a little cold, but all androids were, and at least he wasn't a guard bot watching his every move and stopping him from enjoying a good burger.
Maybe he didn't have to be such an asshole to the thing, it's not as if he could hurt its feelings.
"Is there anything you want to know about me?" Connor asked.
"Two things." Hank replied quickly. "First, what are your capabilities? Obviously you're not the usual Cyberlife fare. What do you got that I can use, or that I got to be worried about?"
"I am equipped with the standard abilities, though I am stronger and faster than even top-end models. I'm designed to be better than the best Cyberlife has to offer."
"In case the best turns bad." Hank interjected.
"Precisely. I am equipped with advanced infiltration technology, hacking and a handful of tools for lockpicking and cutting through hard substances." Connor explained. Hank nodded along, slurping the last few drops of pineapple soda out of his cup.
"I also contain a few compartments for weapon concealment." Connor added, and Hank's eyebrows shot up. He offered Connor a small smile. Hank liked having as many weapons on or near him as he could, so this was a feature he could appreciate.
There was a pause.
"What is the second thing you wanted to know?" Connor asked. Hank thought for a moment, but then brushed it off.
"Nevermind, I'll bring it up later if it's important." Hank quickly chewed the last few bites of his burger. Once it was gone he wiped his hands on his pants and headed back to the car.
"Where to now, Mr. Anderson?" Connor inquired.
"Home, my home. I'm not doing any more work on this case until I get some sleep." Hank grumbled as he started the engine and pulled away.
"It's currently 8:30 AM." Connor stated with a hint of confusion.
"I know what time it is, these are the kind of hours I work. Nobody wants androids whacked at ass o'clock in the morning, and there's nobody's cheating spouse to follow until the afternoon. Besides, I betcha nothing new'll come up on the case until the sun goes back down." Hank explained.
"Alright." He replied, and went back to staring out of the windshield blankly.
It went that way for a little while, then Hank noticed Connor move out of the corner of his eye. He nearly missed it, but a quick glance confirmed that Connor was staring out the window at the dump.
The place was piled high with the bodies of androids, hills of dirty white plastic, vague humanoid in shape. Hank drove past it all the time, it gave him the creeps. It had been a normal trash dump, but after a while, it shifted to an android-exclusive dump.
Hank thought there had to be anything better to do with them, something other than leaving them there to rot, all empty eyes and missing limbs, heaps of abandoned dolls. It always surprised him how many there were. He knew full well that every android in that joint was a human life saved, and the population counter went up by just one more, just a little bit closer to not going extinct, just one more android carcass on the ever growing pile.
They'd be able to make mountains out of them someday.
The familiar phrase was emblazoned on the chain link fence.
They exist to die so that humanity may live.
Connor was looking out over the mounds of androids, probably knowing he'd join them someday.
"Place is an eyesore." Hank threw out, he couldn't quite put his finger on why. It wasn't as if he was trying to reassure the damn android, that would be weird.
"What is?" Connor asked innocently.
"The android dump." Hank elaborated with a hint of exasperation.
"Oh, I hadn't noticed. I was admiring the sunrise." Connor said.
Hank squinted at him through the corner of his eyes. He knew that it wasn't likely, but that sounded like a lie, or at least half of one.
o-o-o-o-o
They arrived at Hank's home a few minutes later, Hank blearily locked the car and trudged up to the front door. He seriously need some sleep. As he unlocked the entrance and opened it, he noticed Connor standing just a few paces behind him.
"Oh no, you aren't standing in the corner of my room and watching me sleep, you can wait outside." Hank stated, slamming the door in Connor's face.
There was a beat as Hank waited there, not moving further into his home for some damn reason.
"Alright, Mr. Anderson." He heard Connor say, his voice muffled by the door. He didn't sound sad, he couldn't sound sad, Hank reasoned to himself despite what his ears were telling him.
Hank nodded to himself in satisfaction and locked the door to articulate his point. Walking inside, he was greeted happily by his dog, but didn't bed down to scratch him like he normally would.
The dog whined up at him, and Hank sighed, running a hand over his face.
He turned back around, grumbling to himself, unlocked the door and wrenched it open.
There was no one on the other side, and Hank was taken aback for a moment before stepping out and spotting the android to the right of the entrance, pressed against the wall, consuming as little space as possible.
Connor looked over in confusion.
"I thought—"
"Yeah, well, so did I, but my dog needs to be walked and—"
"You have a dog?" Connor interrupted.
"Yeah, that's what I just said." Hank replied in mildly frustrated befuddlement.
"I like dogs. What's your dog's name?"
Hank wanted to slam the door again, but he also couldn't help but notice that Connor seemed to brighten the moment he mentioned a dog. He couldn't actually like a dog, it was just a canned response.
But the thing just looked so damn excited, somehow.
"…Sumo, his name is Sumo, and you're going to walk him while I sleep. Then you can come inside." Hank said, doing his best to sound grouchier than he felt, which was an experience he was very, very unused to.
He desperately wanted to say he didn't like it, but that would be a lie.
Hank retrieved the leash and a few plastic bags and walked Sumo out to where the android was waiting.
Connor immediately crouched down and began to stroke Sumo's back, unperturbed by his size. Hank really didn't want to notice that the android smiled as he did so, but it was hard to miss.
"He doesn't like other dogs, be sure to stop every once in a while to let him sniff things, shit goes in the bags, don't be out longer than an hour and a half, he'll get tired and make you carry him back. Lock the door once you get him inside." Hank explained. He didn't wait for a reply, he turned on his heel and went back inside. He was about to leave the two for his well-needed rest, when something snagged in his chest.
Fuck.
"And he prefers scratches to pets." Hank called over his shoulder. He saw Connor's eyes over Sumo's furry body. The android paused in his petting, then returned, now scratching instead of stroking.
Hank closed the door and smiled to himself for barely a second. He wiped the expression off of his own face as swiftly as it appeared. He was tired, but he felt the familiar heaviness in his lungs at the silence. The fish hooks of sadness setting in his guts and dragging him down, he suddenly felt far too tired to sleep.
He'd need a drink or two, or three, or four, to get himself there.
