Chapter Text
It's been two months since the rebellion when Markus demanded that CyberLife released every disclosed document they owned. He wanted the Androids to have full autonomy over their reproduction and evolution. He claimed that every scientific success must go to the betterment of artificial life.
CyberLife refused.
But as a video went viral of a little android child, face covered in tears, telling the story of how it met its mother and wished that it could be her real daughter, well, CyberLife didn't have a choice in the matter anymore. They managed to secure most of their repairmen as stable jobs and argued that the research should have human input, but that was it.
They gave everything to Jericho and began to integrate themselves into the most basic parts of an android’s life in the hopes of surviving as a company.
Kamski stayed away.
Josh started the group that would later be known as A.R.A to make natural reproduction possible for androids and North looked at every android that had been forced to prostitute themselves without ever really knowing what pleasure felt like and decided she would change that.
A new era started when humans came back to Detroit to live side by side with the androids that not even three months ago had been their slaves.
But most important of all, Hank came back.
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When Hank came back home, a big fluffy Sumo at his heel, the house was empty. A thick layer of dust coated everything and the air felt dead. It was quiet, no sound of gentle fans or the quiet clicking of gears could be heard. He didn't really want to feel disappointed, but he did anyway. Hank didn't necessarily expect him to wait all that time in an empty house for someone who might never show up, but there had been a seed of hope steadily growing inside of Hank for the last two months that if he came back it would be to the warm welcome of his only friend.
No amount of talking down this hope he did on the ride over prepared him for that suffocating feeling of stale air and it felt like coming home from the hospital all over again.
Hank shook himself. Connor wasn't dead, he just decided to stay somewhere else. Something Hank could understand, if he thought about it for a moment. The only time Connor had been at his home had been to drag a drunk cop to work, and anyway. That plastic ass was way too workaholic, he was probably at the precinct.
Or whatever the android equivalent to that was.
“Fuck it, Sumo. If the tin can wants to stay in the station, let him” Hank looked down into Sumo's furry face. Sumo blinked.
“Yeah, right. He wanted to be able to decide for himself. He has to live with his fucking decisions.”
Sumo huffed.
“Okay, okay. I could've told him that he could stay here, but gimme a break, I can't think of everything!”
Sumo decided he had enough of the conversation and headed in the direction of his old dog bed.
“Stupid dog!” Hank shouted at the massive butt currently wiggling through the house, causing an equally massive stir in the dust, before immediately feeling guilty about it and shouting “Good dog!” before Sumo vanished into the living room.
A tired sigh escaped Hank before his shoulders dropped and he rubbed the bridge of his nose. There was much to do and it should really start with airing out the house, 'cause it began to smell like he forgot something in the fridge before he had to leave.
But if a forgotten take-out decided to talk to him, he'd throw it into the trash, intelligent life or not.
Hank flung his bag onto the coach and threw open every window he could find within a minute before he joint his bag. The cold February air began to drift through the house and took with it the stale air of a home left alone.
“TV: On” Hank said into to general vicinity of his television, but the thin screen stayed dead. He really wished he had a drink right now. But that would mean he had to stand up and get one, which was impossible right now because the coach was comfortable and he was tired.
He felt a wet snout nudging his hand before he fell asleep.
The next morning didn't look that much better because Hank felt every individual bone creaking in his body and his balls were freezing off.
A nice long array of creative curses later the windows were closed and Hank found out the hard way that he had no running water when he stood butt naked in the shower, expecting blessed warm water to liven up his frozen body.
He groaned loud enough to wake Sumo from his unfrozen slumber, because that dog had fur like a grizzly and the world was generally unfair.
So he got dressed and ready to go on a walk with Sumo because the last this house needed was a piss stain on the carpet.
Being outside in Detroit was weird. He walked through the abandoned neighborhood, expecting at every turn to see someone bringing out trash or getting the morning mail.
But the eerie quiet was almost peaceful and the air fresher than it had been in years. The car factory that used to blow its excess over was shut down and the breeze felt crisp for it.
While Hank followed his usual trail to the small dog park, and wasn't it strange to be able to walk it again, he noted with the eyes of a trained investigator that though most houses seemed empty, some definitely were not.
He sometimes caught a blue reflection in the windows or movement. The house that used to belong to the widow Ms. Hemingway had a brand new looking swing set in her garden, here and there was a string of shiny cans that jingled in the wind, sometimes Hank saw Christmas lights wrapped around the fence or simply lain out on the grass in strange patterns.
But what clued Hank in the most were the paintings. Some were just copies of things around the house painted onto the facade, like the hollow tree behind the crossroad or the skyline of Detroit.
A lot of portraits from the leaders of Jericho, with Markus in the clear lead in number, but others too. Hank recognized a few as people who used to life here. But on every house with signs of artificial life was the seal of the rebellion, the triangle pointing downwards that was shown in the news whenever they talked about the androids.
The fenced off dog park was deserted when Hank finally reached it. The grass that used to be trampled and spares now went to Hank's ankles and Sumo sniffed over every nook and cranny before finding a spot to piss.
Hank settled against the fence, preparing himself for a long time waiting until Sumo decided that he would very much like to shit as well and stared into the middle distance until he heard the distinctive sound of heavy steps approaching.
He stayed very still until he felt a presence at his side and against better judgment a kernel of hope was growing in his chest.
“I wish you a good morning, Sir.” A deep voice greeted. Too deep, so Hank felt his shoulders fall again.
“It's too cold to be a bloody good morning” grumbled Hank while he shoved his freezing hands into his pockets. The android, and it couldn't be anything else standing at his side, just hummed in neutral agreement.
They stayed in silence for a moment.
“I am sorry if I am intruding, but we were wondering if you just moved here?” The android asked with that same pleasantly rumbling voice, the model of a polite citizen. But that voice was coming from above and Hank guessed that the android was at least a foot bigger than him.
“Na, I used to live here. When they let humans back in, I thought to myself, what the hell, why not?” Hank made sure to use his most drawling voice, purposefully misunderstanding the androids question.
“That is very nice to hear. But, and I apologize for my forward attitude, you must realize that things have changed around here. The comforts of your previous life here may not be available to you anymore.” Despite the friendly words, the androids voice went cold. Hank fought against a shiver and he remembered the way Connor would speak to a suspect in interrogation, how he could make his voice go hard as steel. He once told Hank that he did it because that normally raised the “stress level” whatever the hell that was.
“Yeah, I noticed that you guys turned the water off and I don't have any power anymore.” Hank chanced a look at the android and saw the bulky chest that was directly on level with his eyes and spotted the pinched look on its face.
“We turned those off in the houses we knew weren't lived in anymore. I apologize for the inconvenience.” Now that Hank was looking at the androids face he could see the it temporary scowl when it apologized. Probably part of its program it hadn't jet overcome.
“I'm gonna answer that question you're too polite to ask before you blow a fuse, big guy” Hank looked back at Sumo who found a nice spot and was mid shit. “I was on your side of the rebellion, so no need to be afraid that I'm gonna order a coffee from you or something.” The android didn't seem affected at all; no change in its facial expression or in its posture but Hank got the impression that it was relived.
“That is certainly nice to hear,” it said as if that accusation didn't even cross its mind. “My name is Collin.” Another beat of silence, Hank didn't really feel like answering. Collin ran its hands over its tightly span shirt and looked oddly anxious for an android.
“If you want to get water and electricity again, go to the city center. They will put your house on the line again.” It suggested with a gentle smile.
Hank just nodded and whistled shrill. Sumo trotted over to his flank and gave Collin nothing more than a curious gaze.
“Are you going home again? I wish you a good day” said Collin with another gentle smile. Hank just waved it off.
“Yeah, stick it where the sun doesn't shine.” He murmured, his mind already back in his empty house. He began to walk with Sumo on the leash again, leaving Collin at the dog park.
On his way back the once lifeless streets was filled with curious faces peering out from the windows. A few android kids gathered around the swing set and watched Hank with big eyes. Or they looked at Sumo because they never saw a dog that fat.
Back home again, Sumo whined until Hank managed to find non-perishable dog food at the back of a cupboard. He watched as the dog tried his very best at an imitation of a vacuum cleaner and dearly wished for a drink. But he needed to go to the city center and he wanted to drop by the precinct because of reasons. And food would be nice too. If a single fucking store in this city was open.
So, without taking his flask, he grabbed his car keys.
The plan had been go to the city center first because he had no idea if they had business hours or not, but before he knew he stopped in his office parking space.
“Well, fuck” he said to himself, but since he was already there, he could just have a quick look.
Walking up to the main entrance, Hank had to admit to himself that he didn't even know if the station would be open. But if Connor was there, the doors would give.
So when he pressed against the glass and the door opened without problem, his heart made a little jump.
Only to plummet again when he laid eyes on an android lady at the reception.
“Good day to you, Lieutenant Anderson. Captain Fowler is already expecting you.” The receptionist greeted him with an empty smile.
Hank felt his forehead wrinkle. “Why is Fowler still here? Didn't that sack of shit have to leave like the rest of us?”
“Captain Fowler was stationed here by President Warren to help our own police force in training to keep the city civilized. He will be very pleased that another experienced investigator is here to help him out.” It said in that monotone friendly way that every receptionist seemed to have perfected. There was no way it wasn't a deviant but Hank could have bet good money on that before the revolution. “If you need instructions on where to find Captain Fowler, I can help-”
Hank was already through the door into the heart of the station before it could finish.
The office looked almost the same, no paintings on the walls or propaganda smeared on every surface. But the amount of desks had to be cut in half; the space where they stood was left empty.
There were small trinkets on the tables still there, chosen with the same kind of inhuman attachment the tin cans had. A table near Fowler's office had dried beans lying in weird shapes all over the table top.
He tried not to notice, but on his way to Fowler's office he saw that his desk was gone.
And Connor's was empty.
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Fowler looked around a decade older since Hank had left Detroit. The rings under his eyes looked like deep chasms and his desk was coated in coffee stains.
He had his eyes pinched shut and was rubbing his temples. “I already told you, Frank. You don't ask the suspect if they would like to follow you to the station. They normally don't.”
“That would make my job a hell of a lot easier if they did though” teased Hank. Fowler flinched so hard he almost upended his coffee but when his eyes met Hank's, Fowler looked like the man Hank had left here again.
“Shit, Hank. What the hell are you doin' here?” scolded Fowler but the grin stretching his lips told a different story.
“Fuck me if I know. I heard you had problems with the androids?” Hank let himself fall into the expensive leather chair in front of Fowler's desk. The captain’s face had lost all of its joy and the two men tried to out-scowl each other.
“Problems is not the word I'd use. I was told to stay and just help with the cleanup and now I am training almost a dozen of them to become police officers. They have absolutely no experience in the field, no idea whatsoever how the justice system even works and I swear, one of them has the intelligence of my fucking toaster!” Fowler's voice got louder and louder the more he ranted. “And then there's Markus. He may know how to win a revolution but he has no fucking clue how to run a government. Did you know-”
Fowler was interrupted as the glass door of his office opened and a timid looking android stepped in and gave Hank an uncertain look. “I just, eh, wanted to ask, hypothetically of course, what I should do if the suspect in interrogation told me that he had somewhere important to be. Do I tell them to stay, or...?” The android trailed off, unsettled by Fowler's positively stormy expression.
“You let the vandal go.” It wasn't a question.
“He said that he had to go to stock up on blue blood, so he has something when Markus decides he needs to sell it again!” The android defended himself, wringing its hands.
Fowler just starred at the android with that no nonsense look he got during his time aboard with the military.
“Oh... that is illegal, right? Markus said we are only supposed to take as much as we need.” Now the android looked downright crestfallen.
“And do you know why it's fucking illegal, Frank?” Fowler growled, the android shrinking in reaction.
“So it lasts as long as possible?” The androids voice had an astounding similarity to Sumo's duck toy.
“Exactly, Frank. Now go and don't return until you got that vandal in interrogation again!” The android fled the office and Fowler deflated again. “Do you see what I have to deal with here? That's the toaster, if you wondered.”
Hank observed Fowler's defeated look and saw all the little signs of constant stress that had worsened since the revolution. The bags the size of caterpillars under Fowler's eyes, his slack face and slumped shoulders. There had never been a question for Hank to come back to the force but now he had to ask himself if it was really worth it.
“I'm looking for Connor.” he said, searching for every little reaction he got out of Fowler who just raised an eyebrow.
“Well, if he was here, I'd have a whole lot of fucking problems I'd just give to him. Haven't seen him since the last time he was here with you.” There was judgment in Fowler's voice that he didn't try to mask.
“So, do you know where I can fucking start looking? That bastard owes me a drink.” Fowler looked massively unimpressed. Hank scowled in answer.
“Do it like everyone who wants something from an android. Ask Markus.” Upon Hanks annoyed stare, Fowler added: “He's normally at the city hall.”
Hank gave Fowler a curt nod before hauling himself to his feet and leaving the office. As the glass door fell close, he heard Fowler shout after him.
“Make sure you are at your desk tomorrow. I have work for you!”
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Hank slammed on the breaks as soon as he saw the open deli. His car slide a few paces before it came to a stop on the deserted street. In front of the colorful window was an assortment of different fruits and vegetables, which meant food, if they weren't plastic.
He exited his car and approached the small shop cautiously. It looked fairly normal, which meant that it looked human. Maybe others had come back already as well? Hank had the impression that the general populace wanted to wait until they could be sure they would be safe in Detroit.
The door opened with the jingle of a small bell and the question who would open a human food store answered itself as a female android jumped out from behind a fully stocked row of shelves.
“Oh, hello! Welcome to my shop!” it exclaimed exited. “You are my very first costumer, so please, be free, I mean feel free to browse the shelves to your desire!” It jumped up and down like an over-exited puppy.
“Yes...” Hank hesitated a moment before grabbing one of the shopping baskets next to the entrance. He made a beeline to the non-perishable foods in cans, the android at his heel.
“You know, this store used to be owned by the human I used to belong to, but now it's mine. I never had costumers, all the other androids don't need food, but when I heard that humans were coming back, oh I was so excited, I couldn't go into stand-by all night long.” Hank tried to blend the slightly grating voice of the android out while he went through the fresh wares and picked just a little bit of everything. “You know, Charles, my companion, said I couldn't do it, that I was too unprofessional to work in a store. He said that a jog-training android didn't have the patience to own a shop, that we are too brash for it, but I said 'Charles', I said, 'Charles, we are deviant. We don't have to be that anymore'. But he told me that I would blow it anyway. Can you believe that?”
“No, really?” Hank said in his most sarcastic voice. But it flew right over the androids head, because it started to grin like Christmas and Easter fell on the same day. When Hank grabbed a few cans of dog food, it let out an exited shriek.
“Oh, you have a dog? I love dogs, they are so cute. I love animals in general, Charles said I shouldn't feed the raccoon in the backyard, but have you seen their little noses? And their little paws? How could I say no to them?” The android followed Hank to the checkout. “But, Charles said that they are considered vermin, but I don't agree. They are so clever, the little cinnamon buns. There are rumors that Markus wants to open that android zoo, have you heard? Can you imagine that, android ice bears? Oh, or android raccoon! That makes 34,45$ please.”
Hank hurried to get the money over the counter, hoping the android would shut it. But no such luck.
“Oh my, this is the first time I ever got real money. We used to just pay virtually, you know? This is really exciting for me” The android started to pack Hank's groceries into a reusable bag. “I have to tell Charles when I come home, so he can't say I'm not fit for this job anymore. What a novel concept this all is. It’s so new and exciting, don't you think?”
Hank hummed noncommittally. He grabbed the bags and hurried out of the store, the android wishing him a great day as the door fell shut behind him and Hank booked it to his car. He threw the bags on the backseat and drove off as if he was fleeing from an exploding volcano.
While he drove towards the city hall he noted absentmindedly that the skyscrapers were filled with the same realistic painting the houses in his neighborhood had been.
The streets were not as empty as they had been before. Androids loitered around enjoying the sun and some had old fashioned waterproof paint and colored every available surface.
Very few had their LED's, the only way Hank could tell that they were androids was the mechanical way they used their brushes. They went from top to bottom in straight lines, like a printer.
Hank enjoyed the blessed silence for a moment before his hand automatically turned on the radio. The music and the empty road did wonders in calming him, so he was completely caught off guard when he looked into familiar brown eyes.
“Fuck.” Something heavy dropped into Hank's stomach. There, on the side of a skyscraper was a portrait of Connor. He had that pinched look on his face he always got when he was calculating something really hard and didn't want to be disturbed.
Hank almost wanted to stop the car to look closer at that painting, but he forced himself to continue down the road.
Only to seriously consider stopping the car and having a good ol' puke when, a handful skyscrapers later, his own face starred Hank down.
A giant picture of himself was painted almost at the same high as Connor's had been, with an expression on his face as if he had a gun pointed at his head.
Which Hank, now that he thought about it, had to realize might be exactly how the android who painted that fucking thing had seen him. Back then in the CyberLife storage room.
“This is so fucked up”, he cursed over the loud music. “Can those plastic fucks not paint anything else?”
Hank firmly kept his eyes on the roads until he reached the city center, a place that had once housed Detroit's major and representatives. Not a place Hank liked to visit often.
But like the rest of the city, the city center had lived through a lot of changes since the rebellion.
The normally cream colored building was cramped with paintings, sparring the blank spaces over the entrance spelling “Jericho”.
With a bad feeling in his gut, Hank entered the building. The marble floors were filled with people waiting around. At first glance, Hank couldn't tell who was human and who wasn't but his inspector instincts kicked in and then the difference was as crass as night and day.
The humans had gathered closely around each other, eyeing the androids warily as they bustled around, familiar with everything in a way the humans couldn't be anymore.
Though the androids themselves were not above a suspicious or downright hateful glance here and there. Why President Warren had decided to bring humans back to Detroit when the general temper of both sides were still so high, Hank had no idea. Before this point, he hadn't really cared.
There was a man standing at the reception, screaming at the android seated there. “But that was my house, my home! You can't just take it away because a fucking machine decided to move in there!”
The android lady seated next to that smiled welcoming at him as he approached. “What can we do for you today at Jericho?” It's voice was gentle and kind, as if it was talking to a spooked animal. It reminded Hank of how Collins had talked to him a few hours ago.
“I just want my water and power back on, that's all” The android nodded.
“Do you have identification?” it asked. When Hank handed it his passport, its hands stilled for a second. It looked up, its mouth slack before it collected itself again. The android filled the information from the passport into the computer, before it turned to Hank again, showing him the computer screen. “Is this your current address?”
“Yes, yes. Is that all you need?” Hanks hands began to sweat slightly as he made up his mind.
“We will send someone by in the evening, to look over the pipes and cables to check if they are still in working order, but other than that, we are done here” The android smiled but Hank got the feeling it wanted him gone.
“I actually need something else...” Hank faltered for a second. “Can I see Markus?”
The android blinked surprised, then a highly suspicious look took over its face. “Why would you need to see him?” Hank should have just shut up. But he already caused the damage, now he had to see it through till the end.
“I'm looking for... a friend. I can't find him anywhere and...” He swallowed hard. “I'm worried something might have happened to him during the revolution.” The android didn't seem any more willing to help him. Last chance. “His name is Connor?”
“Oh.” The android looked so deeply sorry and Hank felt dread approaching like a tidal wave. “Of course. Just follow me.” It shut down its computer and walked steadily around the counter.
“What?” Hanks throat went dry. “Do you know something? Has something happened to Connor?”
“Please be calm. You are scaring the others” The android replied with a kind note to its voice. Hank realized that he had been screaming.
“Bullshit!” He yelled and the android started walking. “If you know something, you should fucking tell me!”
The android let him through a big set of double doors, completely ignoring his shouting. Hank tried to get in its way, but it just sidestepped him.
“You can't just ignore me, fucking tell me-” A hand in front of his face stopped him. The android looked over to him coolly.
“This is Markus' office. Don't make a mess.” It turned around to go, but before it left completely, it called over its shoulder “And if you ever tell me what to do again, I am going to push your hands so far up your ass that you can scratch your nose with them.”
The heavy doors fell close with a thud.
“Bitch.” Hank murmured under his breath and as he turned back towards the door the android had left him in front, his stomach decided it wanted to show the world its best interpretation of the fucking Can-can. But Hank did not fuck up being one of Detroit's best police men without growing a spine of steel, so he squared his shoulders and entered the rebel leader’s office.
Hank didn't know what he had expected, maybe burning papers or human skulls but he was greeted with warm colors and a spectacular view on a strip of green outside the window.
The office was, as the rest of the city filled with paintings, but these were... different. They were not of people, not of real objects but distorted images of warm things, like two hands holding each other, flowers and trees, or simply colors, flowing into each other gently. An easel stood in the middle of the room, the only painting with dark and oppressive colors, depicting a man who struggled to keep the world on his shoulders.
In front of that easel stood Markus, in all his rebel glory. A loose shirt, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and a paintbrush in hand.
Hank must have made a sound, because Markus turned to him and frowned.
“You are not supposed to be here.” There was an accusation in his voice. Hank felt as if he had interrupted something deeply personal.
“I'm just, ehm…” Hank scratched the back of his head. “The lady at the reception told me that you might know how to find my friend.” Hank felt that dread built up in him again, like blood it seemed to drip through his fingers into his cloth and weighed everything down like tar. But the expression on Markus' face became a lot friendlier.
“Your friend is an android?” Markus fully turned around to face Hank, an easy going smile on his face.
“Yes, he is my partner” Hank felt important to add that. Something in Markus eyes went very soft and Hank went over his words in his head again, feeling his cheeks heat as he realized how this would sound to normal people. “Wait, not like a partner partner, he is- “
“Please, take a seat.” Markus interrupted, voice a little teasing at Hank's embarrassment. He led him to a heavy dark wood desk in the corner and sat behind it as Hank fumbled to sit down on a metal chair in front. “Who is that partner you're looking for?”
Hank didn't like that grin on Markus' face, but he answered regardless. “I don't even know if you guys know him, I mean some of you seemed to, with his face on that building, and the receptionist seemed to know him, but she was really obscure, and-” Markus raised an amused eyebrow. “I'm looking for Connor.”
Hank expected it, but it still hurt so see Markus' shoulders drop and his face growing taunt. Markus seemed to think quite hard. He looked Hank over and came to a conclusion. “Connor is not dead.”
Everything stopped for a second until a heavy breath left Hanks mouth and he slumped down his chair. Before he could collect himself and loudly complain why no one said anything, Markus continued. “But he's not here. We, in fact, have no idea where he might be. Some of us, especially the ones he saved from CyberLife see that as betrayal and others haven't forgiven him from hunting deviants.” Markus' face was serious and he had his hands linked in front of his face. Hank felt himself become taunt and sober in response. “When the dust settled and the city was evacuated by the humans, he came to me and told me that he couldn't stay. He said he needed to leave, but he wouldn't give an explanation as to why he needed to go.
We think he may have fleet over the border. There are not a lot of places you can stay as an android.”
Hank nodded. “But that means I can find him. Just haven't looked hard enough.” He stood up and felt the exhaustion of the last few months drip from his body like rain. He had a goal now and was set on reaching it. Before he could get to the door and leave, Markus called out.
“Before he left, Connor told me that he'd go to a place where his life changed. A place where he didn't do as he was told. We looked at all the crime scenes Connor visited, but he wasn't there.” Hank thought of a pool filled with red and a gun still holding all its bullets. “If you find him, please tell him we need his help.”
Hank nodded. “I might know where he is.”
▲▼▲
The road to Kamski's villa was as desolated as the rest of Detroit and the space Hank had parked last time was overgrown with plants that looked a lot bigger in the weak lighting of the evening sun. It looked like there hadn't been anyone here for months and Hank felt his confidence that Connor was here slipping down the drain.
He leaned back in his car seat and took a few calming breaths. This was just like an investigation; you had cold and hot leads. If Connor wasn't here he'd look for someone who had seen him leave the city and follow Markus' angle. But Hank needed to know if his gut feeling had any merit to, so he left the car and trod over to the same door Connor and him had used back then.
The bell didn't bring any reaction, even as Hank just kept his finger pressed to the button for a solid minute. But he was in investigating mode now, so instead of giving up and returning home, he went around the compound, searching for windows to look through.
He came by that giant window with the swimming pool and saw nobody inside. But the pool itself had been drained, so Hank continued onward.
Next was a big kitchen with chrome appliances and a strangely colored black marble floor. But most importantly, there was a sliding door leading inside. It was locked, of course, but nothing a stray rock couldn't solve. Hank just hoped that Kamski had tuned off the cameras before he evacuated.
He stepped through the hole in the glass door and stayed very still for a moment, just listening to the sounds of the house. There was no noise of note, so Hank continued inside cautiously.
He reached the doorway to the living room and had but a second to take it in, the way the floors and walls and couches were covered in neat writing, equations and blocks of written text, before his instincts flashed and he dodged to the side as a golf club embedded itself in the wall exactly were his face had been not even seconds ago.
Hank took the time his attacker used to pull the club out to prepare himself to defend any other incoming attacks and got a good look at his assailant.
“Connor?!”