Chapter Text
Hank Anderson had hated them from the very beginning. Not the androids themselves, he later figured, but the company… that company was what true evil was made of. And just for the record, Lieutenant Anderson had seen enough evil in his days to know the difference.
The six day revolution attempt had come to a swift stop; the robots not standing much of a chance with their numbers shrunken to only a few hundred. They were swift, they were agile, but they were no match for the cold, brute force of their creators. It wasn’t very clear how their leader had found its end eventually. Some said it self-destructed, some said it was assassinated. After its destruction, the remaining machines had dispersed quickly, seeking shelter, somewhere to hide, wallowing in defeat.
As a means to an end, the government had instructed the mass destruction of all androids, deviant or not, and so began the rapid downfall of one of the largest companies the US had ever known. In the weeks that followed, Lieutenant Anderson had witnessed numerous raids in which androids were plucked out of there hiding places; the screaming and begging still filling his ears as he watched his colleagues complete their gruesome orders. He’d seen the plastic melt from their frames as they overheated in panic, seen their tears, heard their cries for help, for mercy, to please, please, please, just let them exist.
And a month after the failed revolution, Hank Anderson wanted to quit the force. Because he figured that genocide, even if encouraged by his government, was not his job. Even when the public opinion dropped to icy sub-zero temperatures when it was discovered that some android leaders had planted a dirty bomb in the middle of Detroit, Hank Anderson had felt that he understood. And he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was on the wrong side of history. But still, he hadn’t quit. Couldn’t make the final decision.
He huffed in dismay, as he stared at the letter in his left hand and the pen in his right. All androids were gone, and still, this company somehow persevered. He couldn’t and wouldn’t understand what they’d done to make that happen. The letter was short and formal, apologizing for the damages done to his home by the RK800 owned by Cyberlife and promising speedy repairs on their costs. The Lieutenant didn’t need to wonder why this letter had come two months too late, as it was easy to figure that a notification of a broken window was presumably shoved to the background with everything else that had unfolded in such little time. Just the fact that it had come to his doorstep at all, was surprising enough.
He tightened his grip on the pen, placed the letter on the kitchen table and wrote with large, ugly letters Fuck You, on the paper, before taking the lighter from his pocket and lighting the letter on fire. He watched with grouched fascination how the flames ate away one of Connor’s last attempts at being a good partner.
Connor.
Hank’s blood ran cold and he always shivered whenever he thought about the RK800 and its mission. Word was that The Deviant Hunter was one of the main reasons humanity had won and the android revolution had failed. The android that had followed its instructions to a tee, even if that meant the destruction of its entire kin, couldn’t have ever been swayed into deviancy, that was what Hank Anderson convinced himself of now.
He’d made a last, half-assed attempt to stop the android on the roof of a building. He’d almost driven a bullet through the cocky fucker’s skull when it had attempted to talk about his son. Connor’s words had been taunting, crawling deep under his skin and festering an old, always present wound in his heart that was constantly bleeding. The robot had stared at him with dead eyes, its tone stone cold as it described the circumstances of his son’s death. And Hank still didn’t know what stopped him from shooting a bullet through its cold, mechanical brain like he’d done before in that godforsaken park.
A machine, just a machine, the man had muttered more to himself than to the broken bot that lay below him after he’d thrown Connor off the building. He knew the android would be back in a flash, but the thought that he’d delayed its mission for even a second had comforted Hank when he figured that there was nothing else he could do for the deviants’ cause.
Hank startled from his trance when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, retrieving it with a groan to look at the caller ID. His groan continued when he saw who it was.
“Hello Marge.”
“Hank?”
“Yes.”
“I swear it’s here again, I saw something in the trees behind the backyard.”
“For the twentieth time, Marge, there are no more androids.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Still Hank, you hear these stories, you know? Devon said there was one underneath the mall just last week.”
“How’d Devon figure that?”
“She heard noises.”
“Ah noises,” Hank grumbled, “know of nothing else that can make noises, except for androids.”
“It’s not funny Hank, they’re still out there. Cyberlife confirmed.”
“Cyberlife says whatever to float their boat. It was probably a raccoon, Marge.”
“Alright, you’re probably right,” Margaret paused, “how are you, Hank?”
“Fine,” Hank huffed, scratching the whole in his table right next to his revolver, “I’ve been busy.”
“Oh yeah. Cause I was wondering, cause I never see you outside anymore.”
“I’m fine, Marge,” Hank growled a little harsher than necessary.
“Alright. I’ll call you when anything else happens.”
“I’m sure you will.”
He hung up the phone before Marge had another chance to reply. With a sigh he placed the device next to his gun and leaned back. “Quit looking at me like that,” he mumbled as he noticed Sumo staring at him from the living room. “Alright, let’s just… go for a walk or something,” he said, getting to his feet with a groan. Sumo had already perked up at the word ‘walk,’ and was standing by the door, tail wagging in a calm, but anticipating manner.
Hank gave his dog a half smile, studying the Saint-Bernard for a second before clipping on its leash and opening the door. With a sigh, he once again came to the realization that there was nothing left for him here, and if he could just find a nice new home for his dog, that would be the end. Yes, he nodded to himself, perhaps Marge would like some canine company. He would ask her next time she called to let him know there was a rogue android hiding in her backyard. He shook his head briskly, cursing the woman’s convincing tone that had made him waver only slightly. All androids were destroyed, but if there were still deviants out there, they had no real way of knowing about it. The robots didn’t need food, so wouldn’t get out of their hiding place and although most registered androids had been accounted for, some deviants the police had busted had had the sense to hide or even delete their registration. And just because it was now illegal to offer shelter to any still existing androids, didn’t mean there weren’t still thousands of abandoned and rotting houses where they could be holed up. There were even talks going round of an android hiding near the police station. It was a ridiculous story that by now had almost turned into a myth somehow. Marge had told him that nobody that saw the android ever lived to tell the tale, and when Hank asked how then the tale got told, Marge was silent and asked him how he was doing.
Fucking androids, even when they were gone, they were continuing to cause problems.