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Connor never thought that androids could produce so much fluid in such a short span of time. ‘Why give androids the ability to cry?’ he wondered. They don’t need tears - not like humans do. Dust can’t irritate the corneas they don’t have, and the thirium in their circulatory systems keeps their visual units lubricated. Maybe it was included to make them more human. Well, look how that turned out. Stoney Point, Canada didn’t typically fall under the jurisdiction of the Detroit Police Department, but given the nature of the crime and the tentative peace between humans and androids, the case had been handed over to America’s first android-human police team. Normally, Connor would have been elated that he was still allowed to do his job, despite the fall of the company that sent him. This, though? This just hurt. Especially since Connor got to experience it firsthand through Kara’s memories.
“Alice?”
Kara picked her way past the smashed remains of the front door, worry clouding her mind as warning signals and analyses of the scene in front of her popped up on her HUD. Her LED glowed an erratic red as she took in the signs of a struggle taking place that were all over the living room: a smashed lamp, overturned furniture, shredded magazines.
“Alice?” she called again, “Luther?” No response forthcoming, she looked around the room frantically, taking short, sharp steps towards the kitchen, where she thought she saw a foot -
“No! Luther!” She stifled a short sob and sank to the ground next to the tall android. His eyes stared lifelessly beyond her, looking at nothing. She scrambled to find a pulse, one hand wrapping around a thick wrist and the other searching beneath his jaw, refusing to accept the answer the grey LED on his temple offered. She choked back another sob as she registered the finality of the thirum soaked skin beneath her fingers.
Tearing her gaze away from Luther’s blank face, she pushed herself up and away from the counter, lurching in the direction of the bedrooms. “Alice!” Kara cried, voice strangled with tears, ”Alice!”
“Kara,” came the weak reply, and Kara launched herself at the open door of Alice’s bedroom.
Only to be met with a horrible sight.
Alice lay crumpled beneath the big bay window, skinless and broken, surrounded by blue-stained carpet. The pattern of her Jurassic World pajamas was barely visible underneath the blood. Blue streaks lined Alice’s cheeks, though her tears had long-since stopped in her body’s effort to conserve her thirium levels.
Something in Kara broke as she rushed to Alice’s side. “Alice! Don’t worry baby, everything’s going to be alright.” She gathered Alice into her arms carefully, new tears streaming down her face with every pained whimper Alice made. Alice began to cry again, pain and fear overriding her system’s protocols.
“I’m sorry K-Kara, I didn’t m-mean to let him in, he ma-ade me,” Alice sobbed, twisting a section of Kara’s shirt in her hand as her face crumpled and her body shook.
“Shh, shh Alice, it’s okay, it’s not your fault, you’re going to be okay,” Kara whispered, sending out distress signals to any nearby androids and texting Markus, Connor, and Rose. “Help is on the way, we’re gonna get you to a hospital and you’re going to be just fine.”
“K-Kara?”
“Yes sweetie?”
“Can I call you Mommy?”
A small chuckle escaped Kara as she held Alice closer and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Of course baby.”
“I’m scared Mommy, I don’t want to die.” Alice started to become agitated, tears flowing eve n faster than before. Kara could hear her thirium pump whir with the strain. “I don’t wanna go Mommy, I’m -”
She stilled in Kara’s arms.
Kara opened her eyes, locking them onto Alice's glassy ones.
“Alice?”
Alice didn’t move.
“Alice?” Kara shook her, voice rising as Alice remained limp and unresponsive.
“Alice? ALICE?”
Connor heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose as he reviewed the memory for the thirty-fourth time. It didn’t get any easier, no matter how many times he replayed it. The sight of Luther, the gentle giant, laying on the kitchen floor with half his torso strewn about him, pained connor beyond words. And Alice. Dear ra9, Alice. Connor, according to what was to become new procedure concerning crimes with android involvement, had uploaded the memory and other related ones (such as Kara’s alibi, her distress signals, and her health status) to the DPD database, which had then been played for the rest of the officers involved in the case during the debriefing. Even Reed, known android-hater, was shaken. “Too bad the little girl couldn’t upload her memories like you can, tin-man,” he’d said. “Maybe then we’d be able to find out who did this.” Connor hadn’t risen to the bait; Reed had looked pretty pale when he’d said it. Now, Connor was back at the crime scene. Kara and Luther had moved into this little house in Stoney Point about a month after the rebellion. The area was quiet, the people respectful of their privacy, and they were nice and close to both the border and Rose’s house. Stoney Point, a rapidly emptying small town, was looking to become an android hotspot for newly immigrated androids, due to the large amount of abandoned houses and remote yet convenient location. A few Jerry’s lived in a large house down the road - they had been devastated at the news of Alice’s passing. Stoney Point, being such a small town, had been shaken to the core by the double murder. Connor had talked to most of its residents already, and all had solid alibi’s and a lack of motivation. But Connor wasn’t here on duty. Connor was here to grieve. As he stared at the broken doorway and the rapidly deteriorating garden, he felt a warm hand slip into his and squeeze. Connor let the skin melt away from his hand and initiated interfacing. Markus’ thoughts were a comforting presence, tumbling over Conner’s agitated worries and whispers and soothing them. Connor closed his eyes and let himself sink into Markus’ mind, watching with awe as lines of code swirled and pulsed, breaking up and joining together, forming complex thoughts and images. His and Markus’ grief mixed together, becoming unbearably strong for a moment before fading to a less overwhelming level. Not gone - it would never completely disappear - but for now it would be bearable. Markus broke the connection, and Connor turned to see Hank leaning out the driver’s side window of his car. “Hey Conner. We got another one.” Connor tilted his head, scanning his information banks. “How do you know? There’s nothing on the police database yet, and I haven’t gotten any notifications yet.” Hank grimaced and shrugged. “Well, that’s probably because it was Elijah Kamski who just messaged me, saying one of his Chloe’s has been murdered.”