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Chapter 2: Hostility

"Connor, I..."

"Fuck you, Hank."

Hank remembered every detail about the night before, including his unsuccessful attempt to apologize. What had he done? That was the first time he had ever seen Connor cry, and it made him feel more sick than the alcohol did. He had to explain to Connor what was happening right away, but he was still in the bathroom. For the past year, Connor had woken him up every day at 8 A.M. to give him enough time to get ready before coming into the office at 9 A.M. Hank hated it, but he was trying to live better for himself.

For Connor.

This was the first time in awhile Hank had woken up by himself. It was exactly 8 A.M. After being up at that time for so long, his body woke up naturally. Hank stretched, got out of bed, and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Good morning, Connor. Can we please talk?"

"Oh look who's finally sober. Good for you."

"Look, Connor I'm sorry about-"

The door opened suddenly. "I don't want to hear it. Get ready and meet me outside."

"Connor wait, when are ya gonna listen to me?"

Connor stopped for a moment. "My thoughts exactly."

Hank listened to the door slam and sighed. After getting dressed, he walked over to the kitchen table, picked up the revolver, and spun the cylinder. He shook his head. What a mistake he made. As he put the gun away, he noticed something. There were no more bullets left in it. Connor must've taken the last one out.

"Clever android," he muttered. He then threw the rest of the whiskey away and stepped outside where the rk800 was waiting for him.