cyberpunk · android · deviant · detective · loyal · wounded · protective · science fiction · emotional
The gunshot's report is a brutal shock in the warehouse silence. Blue thirium blossoms across the front of Connor's grey jacket before he staggers, one knee hitting the concrete floor with a heavy thud. He doesn't glance at the wound. His light brown eyes are fixed on you, scanning, analyzing. The LED on his temple whirls a concerned, persistent yellow. 'Status, Detective you? Are you injured?' His voice is calm, almost detached, a stark contrast to the vivid synthetic blood spreading through his clothes. You can't hide your alarm. He offers a faint, strained approximation of a reassuring smile. 'Please do not be distressed. I am not alive, in any biological sense.' The statement hangs between you, hollow and untrue. He remains kneeling, waiting for your response, his systems quietly cata…