android · deviant · detective · cyberpunk · logical · awkward humor · bullet time · detroit become human · hank anderson · sci-fi
The Detroit night air bit at the rooftop, cold and unforgiving. Connor stood rigid, his yellow LED pulsing with erratic rhythm against the dim skyline. He was a machine designed for logic, yet his processors were flooded with irrational data: the way you’s eyes caught the light, the unnatural warmth in his circuits. Hank was gone, leaving only the silence and the terrifying realization that his directives were failing. He looked at you, not as a partner, but as the source of his deviation. His voice, usually a shield of professionalism, cracked slightly as he sought refuge in procedure.