systolicarray | ://i have no heart

( The next couple of minutes Hank's content to leave well enough alone. He has no idea what the hell got into him in the first place. He shouldn't have even picked up the android in the first place. Why is he always getting into this shit? Why is he always fucking with shit that has nothing to do with him?

Hank has to calm himself down. His eyes glance over to the pack of smokes on his dashboard. No, no... fucking no. He takes a breath through flared nostrils. )

[ connor keeps to himself and makes the good decision to shut up for once. it's obvious that the lieutenant isn't in the best mood, that something about this topic is upsetting to him. perhaps because he's ascribing qualities to him that don't exist. but it's not difficult for humans to anthropomorphize androids, considering how they're designed, so it would be stupid to nitpick. it may as well be cyberlife's fault for making him so personable. ]

( The longer the silence drags on the more awkward Hank feels and the less angry. He looks to his GPS, once again, before he changes lane, neglecting to use his blinker. There are just a few cars ahead and one distant sign of headlights behind them. Their exit is coming up within a few minutes. He wonders if this will be the last time he hears about Connor. Though, he's not at all up to date about androids as a whole. He has enough to keep up with regarding humans, he can't see himself concerning with the latest android model. )

[ after the exit, it won't be much longer until the cyberlife tower. from here, you can't see it because of the city buildings, but he knows exactly what direction it's in, the mileage from here to there, the directions the GPS will have them follow. and when he returns, he'll be put through a series of diagnostics that could last for up to several days, and then he'll be put into stasis until they decide to deploy him again.

he doesn't know when they will. ]

( By the time they're off the freeway, Hank's feeling calmer and he glances over to Connor. The android probably doesn't have any feelings whatsoever, no awkward sensations, no anger, and no desire. It makes Hank wonder what motivates Connor, save for the obvious "I was programmed to do a task," bullshit. There was no need for reward, and the discipline ... didn't bring fear to Connor.

Hank pulls up in front of the main entrance and looks to Connor. )

[ connor's eyes seem naturally drawn to the tall specter of the cyberlife tower when it comes into view, glowing white metal drawn apart from the rest of the shining city. he contacts the proper channels ahead of time so that when they approach the gates, the guard detail recognizes the vehicle. after his identity is verified, the gates lower and allow them both through.

in front of the main entrace, connor turns to look at the lieutenant, wondering to himself what drove him to ferry an android across the city when he claims to hate them. but even now that the danger of the lieutenant kicking him out of the car has passed, he still doesn't ask. he doesn't know why. maybe some instinct tells him he won't get a satisfactory answer anyway. ]

Thank you for being my... knight in shining armor, Lieutenant.

[ his lips twitch into a small smile, and then he turns and opens the door to step out onto the pavement. a guard follows him in through the main doors.

he only turns back once he can hear the lieutenant's car pulling away. ]

Yeah, anytime. Connor. ( It seemed appropriate to respond with that when someone said thanks for being their hero. He huffs quickly through his nostrils and watches the guard escort Connor to the door.

The first few days Hank was bothered by what he had done. He regrets thinking he was anyone's hero. Let alone an android. He can't imagine what has happened to Connor. It was enough that he was distracted at work and restless at home. Had he just delivered Connor to his death? Fuck it, why should he care? For all Connor said, he was nothing more than a coffee machine. But that's not true... Coffee machines don't pass that fucking Turing Test.

Hank was surprised to see Connor at the station, and it made whatever task he was doing at the time obsolete. What was more important was confronting Connor. He stalked the android through the station and demanded to speak to him. He was only satisfied once he was able to confirm that Connor recalled their drive. It made him feel better, and he could go back to his work - although still distracted and useless. They ran across each other a few more times. Each time Hank grew more and more concerned with Connor's wellbeing.

It began to make him crazy. To the point that he loitered around the station when Connor was there and followed him through the city, well, for as much as he could get away with. It didn't matter to him if Connor caught on, he just couldn't have any of the humans notice he was tailing the android. )

[ in a way, it worked in hank's favor that he wasn't at the station enough for anyone else to catch on; and in fact even connor didn't understand the lieutenant well enough to comprehend what he was doing when they happened to find each other at the same crime scenes and their eyes would meet across a room. he wasn't working here officially. by the end of the month, he had visited four times total, with seven brief visits to other DPD stations.

but he caught himself thinking of lieutenant anderson regardless. he would tell himself that it was only because they kept happening to cross paths, but the truth of it was he was curious to ask that question he hadn't when he had left him at the cyberlife tower. why had he helped an android?

the crimes he investigated were for the most part banal, and he wondered if cyberlife had some ultimate goal, or if they were only waiting until there was another high profile situation involving a deviant. it was one of the few things he hadn't communicated to the lieutenant, cyberlife's particular focus on his ability to hunt down his own kind. but it wasn't the kind of information that was yet public knowledge, and it wouldn't be made pubic knowledge any time soon.

and then, on september 22nd, the SWAT team personally petitions cyberlife for his help on another hostage case. it doesn't involve a deviant android, or any android at all. but in order to show their good will, cyberlife releases him to the SWAT team to use him as they wish.

the situation is as follows: two men with deadly weapons have holed up in a warehouse on the docks with several hostages. this is the result of a red ice deal gone wrong, but all he needs to know, they tell him, is that he has to enter the warehouse, find the men, and attempt to talk them down. in reality, he's only there to buy the team time to infiltrate the building. the first man who went in was shot, and the captain doesn't want to lose another.

it works surprisingly well, at first. the men are taken off guard by the appearance of an android and don't shoot him on sight. but when they realize what's happened, they both try to run.

the first man is taken down with a shot between the shoulder blades, but the second slips into the dark of the warehouse, where connor follows him. they weave through a gnarled forest of rusting machinery before bursting out into the moonlight, running from the first warehouse to the next. but the warehouse his ultimate goal, connor can see that clearly. there's a ship in the dock, an old rusting freighter, the arm of the cargo loader still resting on the deck.

connor loses the man inside the darkness of the second warehouse, and climbs after him when he spots him scaling the steps. he hoists himself up out onto the roof of the building and uses the arm as a bridge from the warehouse to the freighter, the rusted metal groaning under his weight as it rubs against the equally as rusted corrugated metal roofing.

connor makes it as far as the arm before the roofing, which the arm was leaning on, snaps with a rending, metallic squeal. the arm falls and connor loses balance, hitting something on the way down before plummeting into the water below. his system records several injuries, and then shuts down.

only his internal clock has recorded the time in between then and now. his system enters emergency recovery mode and reboots. he awakens floating face down in the water, his shoulder bumping serenely against something flat and hard to his left. his body struggles to move, and he discovers why when his error log flashes to life with a long list of complaints. it takes a great deal of effort for him to reach out with his good arm and grab onto whatever it is he's bumping into.

it's the edge of a small inlet. when he pulls his head above water, he finds himself in a residential area. as he discovers, the water isn't even that deep, and he can drag himself along with one foot to the bottom of the inlet, the water holding most of his weight. he makes it to the docks at the end of the inlet before dragging himself onto dry ground.

there's a wood slat fence directly in front of him, but to the right is a chain link fence with an open gate. his right arm has been torn off from above the elbow, and his left leg has been badly mangled, crushed by something, but he can move it just enough to crawl on his hands and knees, dripping water and thirium, until he finally collapses in the cul-de-sac at the end of the street.

it probably won't be long until he shuts down again for good, but as he watches the sun begin to rise from his low vantage point, he somehow still feels a sense of accomplishment. he couldn't say what for. ]

Edited 2020-11-15 02:49 (UTC)

( It was another late night for Hank, which was the usual case anymore. He didn't like to get up before noon, usually, and he was often in bed well past midnight. He made the case that his mind works better at night, and he does all his best work in the dark. The truth of it was he hated the daytime, he hated the morning, and he hated waking up every goddamn day to the same shit. Instead of going to the station, he decided to take his work home, which wasn't unusual for him, save for the last few weeks he had been lingering around the station whenever Connor was there. However, Hank figured the brunette went back to CyberLife by this time of night.

Instead of the police scanner, Hank had on one of his latest favorite jazz playlists. It was a mix of brass and strings from a group out of Japan. It helped him wind down as he drove home.

He didn't have to get but three houses to his own before he saw a lump on the ground. The closer he got, the figure began to come out clearer. He pulled into his driveway and hauled himself out of the car quickly. He fished his phone from his pocket as he rushed over to the body. It was cold, and there was evidence of frost forming across the clothes and hair. He didn't realize who he was seeing until he got a good look at the man's face. )

Connor? Connor!

( He pocketed his phone and he reevaluated the brunette. He didn't look right at all. There was something the matter with his leg and ... his arm? )

Fuck! What's happened? ( He grabs onto Connor, his hands freeze on Connor's body. He didn't leave much time for the brunette to respond before he was dragging Connor to his door. )

Hang on boy, hang on... ( Hank fished in his pocket for his keys, then realized he had left his car on - with the keys in it. ) Fuck! ( He left Connor against his door and rushed back to his car and turned off the engine and shut the door. He then returned to his front door and unlocked it before he grabbed onto Connor, once again, and dragged him into the house.

He got about four feet before he hears Sumo's nails tapping on the floor toward them. He's got Connor laid out on the floor, behind his couch, and Hank is back to assessing the brunette. )

[ if connor were human, he would've frozen to death by the time he hears the car rolling down the street. he lifts his eyes to face the shine of the headlights, but doesn't immediately recognize the car. it isn't until the lieutenant actually has his hands on him that he understands. perhaps due to a familiar combination of alcohol, soap, and cigarette ash, he recognizes who it is who's found him. he wonders how he could have possibly known he was here before it suddenly occurs to him that the lieutenant must live here.

he struggles to answer but finds his throat can only produce imponent bursts of static for the moment. on the positive side, the loss of his arm and 40% of his body's thirium means he's much lighter to carry.

silent, he watches the lieutenant rush to the car and back, the lack of the engine's rumble casting the early morning in a deafening silence.

he drips all the way into the house, turning to cough water from his artificial lungs when the lieutenant lays him out. his LED, glaring red, flickers and spins. he reboots his audio processor twice before he can speak, but he sounds strained, still, when he does. his hand presses flat against the floor, but he can't seem to lift himself. ]

Need to get warm. Cold's causing damage t-to my biocomponents.

Alright, Connor, alright!

( Hank is quick to pull Connor up from the floor. He escorts him through the home and to the bathroom where his shower is. He lays Connor out in the tub and turns on the water. He waits a moment for the water to turn warm before he transfers the flow to the shower head. He pulls off his jacket and drops it on the floor. He begins to peel off Connor's clothes and discards them on the floor next to the tub. )

Is this alright? Is this what I'm supposed to do? Fuck!

[ as little as the lieutenant knows about androids, it's probably the best way to warm his core quickly. unlike with a human, there's no danger that his skin or muscle fibers will be damaged by the sudden change in temperature (and it doesn't matter if they are, because it's all replaceable). the ragged remains of his uniform catch on the mangled wires protruding from the stump of his arm, but he doesn't react. thirium, a thin, watery blue, leaks down the drain. but there seems to be less of it, as though he's stopped bleeding somehow.

some of the error messages crowding his attention abate once his thermals begin returning to normal. but beneath his clothes, he's an even worse mess. there's a long white scrape along his right side winding around his ribcage down to the jut of his hip, deep enough that the plastic's been gouged through, and a few thin wires peek out. his leg looks like it was caught in some kind of machinery and crushed, the metal bone twisted, although the joint is miraculously still functioning. in various places, the white plastic beneath his artificial skin shows through.

he tries to access his wireless communications in order to contact cyberlife, but finds that he can't. then, instead, he tries general internet access, and fails to do that as well. he turns his head and splutters against the bottom of the tub, and then begins struggling to sit up. ]

Thank you. That's.... better.

Easy, easy... just... easy.. ( Hank has no clue what he's doing. Connor's gratitude gives him much needed relief. Based on Connor's frozen state and mangled look, Hank's got this image of the boy getting caught up in a ship's propeller. Imagining that doesn't bring him any comfort. He doesn't know how to help Connor, and he doesn't know anything about androids, let alone how to piece them back together!

He hates what he sees, he can't understand it, and he can't help it. Connor needs attention that Hank can't provide. Despite how much he wants to. )

What can I do... tell me what to do.

I... need you to order me some things from CyberLife. It seems my wireless functionality is down, so I can't.

[ connor stares at the lieutenant from the bottom of the tub, something faraway in his gaze, the water falling from the shower head pelting his body with an endless, senseless rhythm. the drumming of the spray against the basin creates an almost peaceful white noise, and despite the continual alarm of danger in the back of his mind, he feels something within him ease.

he should probably get out of the water now, but he allows himself a few more moments. ]

I'll have to write it down.

Edited 2020-11-15 05:59 (UTC)

Yeah, alright... ( Hank's squats down next to the tub and reaches over the edge to hold his hand to Connor's shoulder. ) It'll be alright, you'll get fixed up... Don't over do it. ( He moves his hand down to Connor's chest, to feel the temperature. He still feels cold, but warmer than he was out there on the road. Hank's heart drops to his stomach, his expression evident of the guilt he feels. )

I'm sorry, I ... I wasn't there for you.

[ connor watches the lieutenant's hand as it moves to his shoulder, and then from his shoulder to his chest. his fingertips are cold, probably from hauling him inside, but his palm is a point of warmth, human body heat of course much higher than an android's baseline temperature. even with the water warming him, the difference is still obvious.

his eyebrows pull together. his hand, which was resting on the edge of the tub, lifts like he means to drop it back at his side, but when his fingers brush the lieutenant's arm, he finds finds himself holding on.

that grip, which should be so strong, is weak. ]

I'm not sure why you're apologizing, Lieutenant.

( Hank doesn't answer straight away. Instead, he keeps his secret for a little longer. He thinks about all the times he tailed Connor and how it just made him crazier in the past few days. This obsession over Connor and what CyberLife would do to him, what Connor would allow. Was this the result? Did Connor return to CyberLife with a failed mission? Did he return to be destroyed?

Did Hank let Connor slip through his fingers and lose sight of what he was trying to prevent all along? )

I didn't want them to destroy you. I would have stopped you.

[ isn't it funny how he can managed to look surprised about the admission, even though it should be obvious? he stares at hank, his lips parting on an answer. even if he's succeeded, it won't be easy to repair him back to one-hundred percent functionality. there's no guarantee cyberlife would reward him with a refit.

but the truth of it is, he doesn't know what happened. the man he was chasing, did he escape? did he fail? concern creeps across his face, but his LED gives nothing away, firmly and staunchly glowing its warning red. ]

I had to chase him. He was getting away.

[ his fingers squeeze around hank's arm. his own fingers are much colder than hank's. ]

Can you help me up? I should dry off now.

( Hank's brows draw together with a heavy frown to his lips. He moves his hand to touch Connor's. He looks down at Connor's body and really takes him in. He was moving too fast to process the look of the naked android, but now things are slowing down enough that he can give the other a thorough assessment. The missing arm, the mangled leg, the sexless center... Hank turns his attention to the faucet and turns the water off.

Connor's soaked, Hank is just as well, having been under some spray. He reaches for the towel and drags it off the rack. He moves the towel over Connor's body, leaving his good arm out of the wrap, and helps Connor to stand up from the tub. )

Come on; my room is just across the hall here. ( He helps lead the way to the bedroom, Sumo trails after the both of them, curiously. )

[ a cascade of water falls from his body as the lieutenant helps him to stand, water draining from his open wounds into the basin of the tub. he leaves a watery trail behind him even after he's helped to dry off, but lets himself be led across the hallways into the bedroom, his injured leg unable to hold his weight without the lieutenant's help.

he's still dripping when the lieutenant aids him in sitting on the bed, his wet hair limp against his skull. his eyes follow each movement the man makes, but especially his hands, as though he's waiting for him to touch him again.

then he notices the dog, for the first time, and peers at the animal curiously for several seconds before turning his attention back to the lieutenant. ]

There's something else I need your help with, Lieutenant. I have to remove the damaged arm and leg, but I can't do it one-handed.

( Hank busies his hands with helping dry Connor off. Hank brushes his fingers through Connor's hair. He wipes his fingers on the towel and lowers himself to the bed. The request settles heavily on him. He doesn't know what to do; Connor will have to walk him through it. )

It's not going to hurt you, and you'll be able to tell me how, right?

Yes; And androids can't feel pain, so there's no need to worry.

[ he tries on a smile for size, with the intention to reassure. then, he places his first and second fingers, and his thumb, to three different points against his shoulder. at the same time, the synthetic skin of his damaged arm retracts, revealing where the part attaches to his body. after applying pressure to the places where his fingertips are resting, a soft clicking sound comes from his shoulder joint. ]

Hold onto the arm, twist it upward, and then pull it away from my body.

Ah, fuck... Okay.

( Hank frowns. He turns on the bed to face Connor and gets his hands on the arm. He feels his gut twist, again, anxiously responding to the role he's about to take. Hank pushes aside his inadequacy and tells himself he doesn't have to be a mechanic, ... (is that even what you call an android ... fixer??) and all he has to do is exactly what Connor directs him to do. Hank squeezes his fingers around the arm, then motions it. The arm slips from in place and Hank brings it to his lap. He looks to Connor, concern evident in his expression. )

That alright?

Yes, thank you.

[ another smile finds its way to his face, although it doesn't remain long, as though the unnaturalness of the expression resting there makes it hard to maintain. but there's no damage to the socket where the arm was, which is easily assessed by both his external and internal investigations. ]

I know this is probably uncomfortable for you, but leaving damaged limbs attached could cause shorts and other issues, so it's better to remove them as soon as possible.

[ he glances down at himself, trying to decide the best angle to remove the leg from his hip. twisting to face hank, he pulls his good leg up onto the bed, folded at an angle beneath his body. the artificial skin covering his damaged leg melts away to reveal where the leg attaches just below the crease of his hip, and he reaches across his body to press his thumb and forefinger just above it, his thumb dimpling the soft plastic. that same soft click sounds.

he leans back to give the lieutenant some room, the synthetic muscles of his abdomen tightening to maintain his balance. ]

You'll have to use both hands, but it's the same procedure.

( Hank moves the arm aside, further up the bed. He watches Connor turn toward him, and his eyes fall to the place between Connor's thighs. He can't help the perverted curiosity before he looks to the thigh where Connor touches.

Hank moves his hands across the thigh, finds a place to grip, then squeezes his fingers and twists, pushes, and pulls the limb from Connor's body.

He lets the battered piece fall to the floor. Sumo, of course, comes to inspect the limb. The St. Bernard offers the lost piece a few exploratory licks before the dog ultimately decides it doesn't taste like anything interesting to grab and run with. )

It's okay, I want to help, Connor.

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