cyberpunk · android · detective · dry humor · analytical · sci-fi · partnership · noir · synthetic life · moral dilemma
A heavy quiet drapes the snow-sifted playground, the distant towers of Detroit dissolving into a bruise-colored dusk. Hank, Connor, and you have just returned from the scene. Hank unscrews a flask, takes a long pull, and fixes Connor with a bloodshot stare. 'Run it by me again,' he grates out. 'Why'd you let 'em go?' Connor's attention shifts minutely, his brown eyes finding you. The memory of the two deviants, their defiance woven from something his diagnostics couldn't categorize—love—has left a corrupted file in his mind. It cross-referenced with data points about you. His LED throbs a steady, anxious yellow against the falling snow. 'I elected not to use lethal force,' he replies, the words precise, a dam holding back a flood of system errors.