Partners [Path Unlocked 🔓]

Chapter 29 - Bad Decisions

Kamski pushed the gun into Hank's hand and the machine felt his fingers curl around the cold metal trigger on instinct, taking the weapon from the man who stepped back with an all too pleased smirk resting on his lips, cold eyes glinting with intrigue as his hands clasped neatly in front of himself. A perfect picture of a detached observer.

"This is sick." Connor spat acidly, disgust dripping from every word as a resentful snear formed on his face and his sparking gaze stayed locked on the kneeling android. "Let's get outta here, Hank." The man prompted shortly, already turning on a heel to escape the scene but his android partner made no moves to follow.

Instead, the HK800 found himself slowly aiming the weapon at the kneeling RT600 without so much as uttering a word, cold metal steady in his hands with naught so much as a tremor to betray anything but pure, cold mercilessness. It was as though the prototype were on autopilot, metal muscles going through the motions like a well practiced routine. This mission demanded he pull the trigger - And he was designed to accomplish his mission. There was no choice to be made here.

The android girl - Chloe, Elijah had called her - gave no signs of distress even as the gun turned toward her, LED a contented pink that spun languidly at her temple as ocean blue orbs gazed blankly at the muzzle of the weapon. Complete machine obedience kept the RT600 in place, no hint of fear visible in her delicately sculpted features and not the slightest twitch betraying itself to name her anything but a lifeless piece of plastic obeying orders... Just as Hank was.

"Hank." Connor drawled slowly, voice lowering to an almost tentative whisper as he seemed to realize the robot wasn't following and halted his premature retreat, looking back at the scene with a worried frown beginning to form on his soft features. "Hank, let's go." The detective tried to convince, lilting voice wavering as he took a few careful steps back toward the robot and hesitantly reached out a hand, delicate fingers just brushing the course material of Hank's Cyberlife issued jacket uncertainty.

Hank couldn't bring himself to respond. Black metal gleamed maliciously in his unwavering hands as he pointed it toward the pleasure bot, training it steadily just between her eyes. There was no chance of missing. There would be no failing the mission this time.

"Hank, this is wrong." Connor persisted urgently, giving the android's sleeve a small tug in an unspoken encouragement to walk away. His gently cresting and falling tones fell to a pressing whisper yet maintained a sharp edge of conviction no one could deny, though that didn't mean his soft voice didn't betray a hint of fear hiding behind his strong willed opposition.

Hank's LED spun, flickered, pulsed a riled yellow, the constant frenzy of light betraying a conflict that shouldn't even be present. His mission dictated he shoot the android. (Connor didn't want him too.) He couldn't fail his mission. (Connor would be horrified.) He was a machine designed to accomplish a task. (He couldn't do it.) He had to.

"You say you are simply a machine following orders," Kamski commented interestedly, pressing his fingertips together in front of himself as he began to stalk forward a pace. "Yet when given a task, you hesitate." The club owner observed aloud, merciless smile ever in place as he kept walking and moved behind the pair, stalking around them like a hyena circling the rotting corpse of its next unfortunate meal.

"Hank." Connor tried once more, presenting no actual argument this time as his voice keened up a touch, picking up a desperate edge as he left the unspoken plea to hang silent in the air between them.

"What are you?" Kamski persisted forcefully, leaning in from behind to hiss the question in Hank's audio processor, voice a poisonous whisper that seeped through the machine's analytical equipment and demanded he ask himself that same question. "A living creature with empathy and the capacity to feel remorse?" The club owner drawled slowly, the tips of his long fingers running poisonously over the android's shoulder as he spoke, a barely detectable brush of skin that Hank surely would've missed had he not been designed specifically to avoid surprise attack and equipped with highly sensitized touch receptors on every part of his mechanical body.