Chapter Text
I cry sometimes, walking around my own place
Wondering why she cries sometimes
Talking about her own place
Somewhere around the mountains
No one could dry her fountain
Till she got tired to complain
OCTOBER 4TH 2039
The cabin hummed with recycled air and nervous heartbeats. Hank tugged his leather jacket tighter, trying to trap a little warmth. The thin Knights of the Black Death t-shirt underneath wasn’t cutting it. Hank stared through the rounded windows at the soft white clouds, drifting in ribbons over the tranquil blue sky. The irony of witnessing such a beautiful view in such a somber, sterile space was not lost on him.
“I hate these metal death traps,” he muttered. “Could at least turn the damn air-con off. I’m one shiver away from hypothermia.”
Beside him, Connor tilted his head, then reached out and took Hank’s hand. The gesture wasn’t affectionate. It was more like when the doctor tells you to turn your head and cough — a diagnostic check.
“Hank, your body temperature—”
“I’m exaggerating,” Hank cut in, swatting the hand away. “I just don’t get why we couldn’t drive there. At least we’d have Sumo with us right now. I mean, for God’s sake, you can bring a freakin’ chihuahua on board but not a loyal Saint Bernard? No, of course not that’s—”
“Hank, he’s 170 pounds,” Connor interjected, adjusting the overhead vent away from the older gentleman. He was prepared to explain the importance of abiding by safety regulations and weight limits on an aircraft, but he was quickly interrupted by a sarcastic Hank.
“Are you fat-shaming my dog, Connor?” Hank’s eyebrows raised in a state of shock, “It’s bad enough you changed his chicken chew treats to some cabbage-quinoa mess, which you’re probably fine with, but those of us who can’t turn off our sense of smell are suffering from 170-pound dog farts…” Hank continued to gripe, and Connor allowed him to vent. “He’s just as civilized as you are. You both put the same amount of crap in your mouths.”
Connor’s LED flickered a calm blue. “Firstly, this airline allows dogs up to 70 pounds, and Sumo exceeds that by a vast margin. Hank, I assure you the pet air travel company I chose has an excellent reputation. I wouldn’t put Sumo in danger. Secondly, those chicken chew treats contain several harmful ingredients, including maltodextrin. And lastly, the last thing I put in my mouth was…”
Hank raised a hand to silence Connor; the grey hairs that peeked out from his sleeves were raised from the chill. “Please don’t finish that sentence, son.” He sank lower into his chair, “I already have enough nightmares.”
Connor blinked, confused. It had been an ink cartridge leak that detectives had believed to be Thirium. Silence settled between them. Hank stared past the seat in front of him. Connor was intently watching, scanning over the lieutenant with concern. He noticed the way his brows knit together in worry, his body language reeked of apprehension, his jaw was tense, and as the android’s eyes trailed down, he saw Hank’s fingers tightly gripping the armrest — so much so that his knuckles turned white.
EMOTIONAL ANALYSIS: ANXIETY
TRIGGER: AIR TRAVEL/DEPARTURE FROM HOME
“Oregon will be a new start,” Connor said softly, determining a comforting approach was necessary. “I know it may be hard moving away from Detroit, especially during this month, but this is what you wanted, Hank. Somewhere quiet, away from the technology.”
Hank’s mouth twitched, “That’s what I said, huh?”
“Yes, and the town we’re going to will suit that criterion well. In fact, I have a plethora of interesting facts about the city we’re moving to.” Connor continued, his flashing LED demonstrating his quick processing abilities. “It is one of the few cities in the United States of America that hasn’t adopted President Warren’s ‘Live for the Future’ initiative. It still functions like early 2000s America. Originally, a native settlement, now heavily influenced by the Prescott family, the wealthy benefactors who have funded most of Arcadia Bay, including the police department to an extent—”
“Wealthy family, huh?” Hank let out a hearty sigh and rested his head back against the leather headrest with a soft thump. “As long as I don’t have to deal with another rich kid with a man bun, they can fund whatever they want.”
Connor ignored the comments and attempted to continue, “They have introduced a famous photographer into their local academy and the town has only had one recent disappearance since—.”
“Connor, can you just…” Hank huffed and took another deep breath before giving Connor’s shoulder a firm but reassuring squeeze. “I know you’re tryna make me feel better, kid, but I think I just need to close my eyes and pretend like I’m anywhere else.”
Hank grew up in Detroit. It wasn’t going to be easy leaving the memories behind. He was there to see the progression of technology, from the first smartphone to the now revolutionary androids living among human beings. He was there to contribute to the formation of what he previously believed to be the best law enforcement team in the Midwest. However, it was also Detroit that homed his complete and utter mental breakdown when his pride and joy was ripped from this Earth. It was Detroit that made him feel that his piddly-ass problems didn’t matter because he was replaceable.
Nevertheless, it was Detroit that brought hope to his heart when he thought that all was lost. Leaving it behind hurt, but staying had been worse.
The force was more than happy to see the two off. They all believed it would be better for Hank, even Gavin Reed gave them a goodbye card, although Hank saw it more like a good riddance card.
Captain Fowler was even able to pull a few strings and get them some connections on the Oregon Police Force.
The small-town cops were eager to get a drug-busting lieutenant from Detroit, one who came with his own android. Unfortunately for them, they were getting a shaggy-haired 53-year-old with an adopted android who just couldn’t leave him alone.
The non-stop flight of one hour and forty-nine minutes felt like an eternity to Connor as he calculated the arrival time, watched an in-flight movie called Clueless, a choice he knew Hank would have ridiculed him for. Once that was finished, he settled for watching Hank drool on his lapel. He didn’t mind the sleeping man so much; he was used to it by now.
Somewhere along the way, their partnership had shifted into something more like a real family. Hank ruffled his hair when he did well. Tried to make sure Connor didn’t go hungry, despite knowing he doesn’t have to eat. Now, he used Connor’s shoulder like a memory foam pillow.
TASK: ALLOW REST CYCLE TO CONTINUE. DO NOT DISTURB.
Eventually, Connor had no choice but to nudge him awake. “We’re landing soon.”
Hank grunted, folding his arms as the flight attendant’s voice crackled over the speakers: “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Portland International Airport. Local time is 4:44 PM, temperature is 63 degrees. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened…”
“You wish,” Hank muttered, undoing his seatbelt in protest. Connor reached across and re-latched it with one efficient motion.
“I thought deviants were all about rule-breaking?”
Connor gave Hank a look that could only mean Don’t Test Me and quickly diverted the conversation. “I have already booked a car to rent for the drive from Portland to Arcadia Bay. It should take no longer than 1 hour with a rest stop of fifteen minutes.” Connor didn’t need to look at Hank to know that he was rolling his eyes at the organised androids list.
Portland was the closest major city to Arcadia Bay and was actually Hank’s first choice when they decided to move to Oregon; however, after Connor’s lengthy investigation, all signs pointed to Arcadia Bay being part of the detective duo’s destiny. It was now or never.
ʚɞ ʚɞ ʚɞ
Outside the terminal, Sumo greeted them with enough enthusiasm to knock the tension right off Hank’s shoulders. Connor clipped the leash on, scratching the dog’s ear affectionately.
“Next time, buddy,” Hank said, “We’ll all fly together — or none of us at all.”
“He was perfectly safe with the—”
“The best pet air travel company with an excellent reputation,” Hank mimicked. “Yeah, yeah. I got it, Connor.”
Connor frowned and led Sumo ahead while Hank followed, smirking.
Hank’s smirking was very short-lived. They both stopped short at the sight of the bright-red mini hatchback parked ahead of them. “What the fuck is this, Connor?”
“This was all they had available,” Connor said evenly, opening the door for Sumo to clamber in. He would have felt bad, knowing that they had to get a car Hank would disapprove of if Hank hadn’t made fun of him only moments ago.
“Next time I’ll choose the rental company.” He huffed, getting into the driver’s seat and slamming the door on the way inside. He put the key in the ignition and let out an exaggerated groan. “Hear that? That’s the engine, it sounds like Sumo’s stomach after eating those cabbage treats.”
Sumo seemed to bark in agreement as Connor moved to the passenger seat. “Don’t encourage him, Sumo. The engine sounds fine, and those treats are excellent for digestion.”
“Says the guy with no digestive system.”
Connor only had to press one button to silence Hank — seat warmers.
The argument ended there.
It was a while of driving in silence, the scenery of Oregon feeling like a foreign land in comparison to the new age of Detroit. With no CDs, Hank resorted to the radio. A soothing acoustic song drifted through the speakers. “What kinda crap is this?” he muttered, reaching to change it. Connor caught his wrist.
“Wait, I think I like this one…”
Up until then, Connor hadn’t exhibited much of an interest in music, only fondness and amusement when Hank would try to teach him how to dance to heavy metal.
SONG DETECTED: “To All of You” — Syd Matters.
“What kind of group is called Syd Matters?” Hank complained, “Can’t we put on something a little more—.” His words faded into nothing as he glanced at Connor’s face; his eyes were closed, peaceful, almost human.
As the car crested a hill, the ocean came into view, dark blue under a pale sky. A weathered sign stood at the roadside.
‘Welcome to Arcadia Bay’