Partners [Path Unlocked 🔓]

Chapter 31 - Disturbing the Dead

The gate was shut tight in the late hours but the trail Hank had been following continued on the other side after a vaguely body shaped area where the snow was disturbed just past the bars themselves, implying Connor had likely jumped the fence - And hadn't exactly stuck the landing. Ignoring the warning sign flashing across his vision informing him that breaking and entering was against the law, Hank grabbed the cold iron of the sealed gate and hauled himself over top of it, swinging his body over the pointed edges of the fence without so much as snagging his jacket.

The android's feet hit the ground and he was on the trail once more, his systems instantly restabilizing themselves and allowing for immediate pursuit, chasing down criminals on all fields being one of the tasks he was specifically designed for. How ironic was it that Hank found himself using this lethal attribute of his design out of concern? The footprints the machine pursued lit up under his scanners, the soft glow indicating a touch of residual heat located on the trail and promising Connor would be nearby. The human's heat signature surprisingly was high for the frigid conditions but that was likely due to stress and would soon fail him, his underweight body obviously not built for such a harsh environment.

However, the android had little time to concern himself with this fact when he found himself upon the man he sought, the lithe silhouette of Detective Anderson coming into view at the very edge of the graveyard. The man was leaned against a guardrail overlooking a dark body of water, turned away so that his curling hair was outlined against the murky gray of the night sky but his face remained hidden from view. Both elbows rested against the metal of the banister so that his slender body slumped over it the slightest bit, angular shoulders slouched but head held high to gaze out at the large bridge visible from the overlook as he twirled a cigarette between his two fingers.

"Detective Anderson." Hank prompted loudly enough so Connor could hear him, coming to a halt a few paces back from the man and watching him carefully as the human startled at the sudden noise, jumping slightly and dropping his cigarette in the process.

"Fuck." Connor deadpanned flatly as his eyes followed the descent of the lost cigarette, gaze fixed to the small roll of paper as it caught in the breeze and swirled slowly down until it hit the water and was lost forever to those black depths, drifting atop the lake at the moment but progressively becoming heavier with spreading water until it would eventually submerge to the cold beyond.

The detective turned to glance at the cause of his sudden shock, casting Hank a single, unreadable glance before flicking his eyes back out toward the water, his coffee orbs detached and guarded yet obviously hiding so many things. Snowflakes caught in the man's hair, contrasting starkly against mahogany locks and falling to dance against his cheeks where they melted against the soft skin to leave wet traces along the rose dusted flesh, flushed with cold and abused by the whipping wind that offered no reprieve from it's snake tongued whip. The delicate flakes caught in the man's dark lashes, clinging to the long, fluttering things and refusing to let go even as he blinked a touch too fast and turned his head just the slightest bit farther away.

"This is a graveyard, Detective." Hank pointed out slowly, hoping Connor would hear the question in his voice and offer some explanation to his presence in this dismal place when such hazardous conditions were at play.

"Nothing gets passed those million dollar processors, huh, Robocop?" Detective Anderson snarked dryly, still turned away and showing no signs of changing that anytime soon. "Where would I ever be without you?" The man wondered aloud, lilting voice as flat and toneless as his guarded expression, barely visible from where Hank stood but unreadable all the same.

Question asked, Hank's programming noted, instinctual protocols firing up in response to the external stimuli and calculating the answer as his hardware was programmed to. Answer: Dead on your kitchen floor. The machine bit his tongue and squeezed his eyes shut with the effort of it all as he silenced the program, forcing it into manual shutdown against his system's natural programming as there was no way in hell he was actually going to allow those words past his lips.