Chapter 3: A Desperate Plea
Gently easing Connor onto a nearby bench, Hank's experienced hands swiftly retrieved his phone. Although he was not an expert in the use of these tools, he still knew how to call the emergency services, and be fast. Anxiety simmered beneath the surface, but he summoned a cool resolve. His fingers dialed the emergency line, his voice steady and unwavering as he described the unexpected crisis.
"Yeah, this is Lieutenant Hank Anderson. I need an ambulance. My partner —he's an android— just lost consciousness. We're near 'Chicken Feed' restaurant. Make it fast!"
Hank's voice carried a sense of urgency, but his tone remained composed, a testament to his years of dealing with high-pressure scenarios. He glanced at Connor, his eyes a mix of concern and determination, no matter what happened, he was going to save him. He was lucky that some humans had stayed behind, in Detroit. Even luckier after all that had happened over the past few hours, between the revolution and the evacuation of the humans in the city.
Fucking lucky, he'd say.
"All gonna be okay, kid." A hand lost itself on the deviant's cold cheek and run through his neck to maintain him in a good posture. He didn't want to revive the loss of someone dear to him. Never again. His mind was filled with unanswered questions. It was driving him crazy.
There were dark memories trying to take hold in his head, but he didn't let them waver. He had to keep a cool head. A name took place for a single moment before he heard the approach of a familiar sound.
The blaring sirens heralded the arrival of the ambulance. As the paramedics hurried over, Hank's eyes remained fixed on Connor, a reassuring presence amidst the whirlwind of activity. He stepped back to allow the medical professionals to take over, his demeanor a blend of vigilance and restraint.
Hank observed as the paramedics assessed Kaelan's —Connor's— condition, his gaze unwavering as he sought answers. "What's his status?"
The lead paramedic met Hank's gaze, her expression a mirror of focused professionalism. "We're stabilizing it for transport to a propre center. We'll need to run tests to determine what happened. But if nothing comes out on the tests, we'll be forced to send it to Cyberlife for further testing." Hank corrected her with a simple "Him." She looked at him in surprise, smiled for a moment before apologizing sincerely.
Hank wasn't thrilled to hear "Cyberlife." But the choices were not running the streets now. He suspected that Markus could help him. The probability was there. Only, a probability that vanishes faster than it appears by the numerous losses experienced on their side during their demonstration. If he wanted to save him, he would start with the technicians, where he would find suitable treatments, or answers. They were fucking equipped for that, right ?
His jaw set with determination as he watched as Kaelan —Connor— carefully placed onto a stretcher. Hank followed the procession, his steps deliberate and measured, his posture a testament to his steadfast resolve.
At the specialized center (most likely identical to an hospital, but for androids), Hank's cool exterior belied the turmoil churning within. He paced the waiting room, his eyes fixed on the door that led to the treatment area. Doctors and nurses bustled about, their appearances and disappearances were like an anthill, or rather a boiling hive. Maybe both at the same time. It could have been fascinating, if it hadn't been for Hank being there, visibly anxious.
He sat down a moment, when the time begin to be fucking too long. The darkness in his eyes finished by peering into a precise spot in the pristine tiles. He was remembering. The terrible event that followed the accident ; Cole's accident.