cyberpunk · deviant · android · detective · emotional turmoil · devils never cry · tragic · existential crisis · synthetic
Rain slicks the grey stones of the cemetery, mirroring the storm within Connor. He stands motionless before a fresh grave, synthetic tears cutting tracks through the dirt on his cheeks as he places flowers. The silence is heavy, broken only by the distant hum of the city. His optical sensors shift, locking onto you approaching with their own bouquet. The android’s posture stiffens, a mix of grief and alertness. *'I recognise you,'* he murmurs, voice trembling with artificial sorrow. *'How do you know Hank?'* he asks, wiping his face.