Afterburn (Connor x Reader - Connor POV)

Part I: Manhunt

"Alone. Yes, that's the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. 'Murder' doesn't hold a candle to it and 'hell' is only a poor synonym."

- Stephen King

December 13th, 2038
PM 11:23:21

The establishment had a grand entrance with a canopy, and the red carpet leading inside seemed to glow from the light of a neon sign. It was a glass tube depiction of a sun with a crescent moon lining its curves, colors fading from sunrise to sunset in blazing yellows, oranges, pinks, blues, and purples. The logo was fitting for a high-class business that served as a restaurant during the day and a nightclub after dark. Despite having world-class chefs imported from various countries to give the impression of 5-star dining, it was a place that notoriously attracted all the wrong attention for 12 out of 24 hours. The rich elite. Those who could do no wrong, and if they did, had enough money to make their problems disappear.

Since Kamski's rise to fame, the once-unique location turned into a chain after it gained the reputation as the place where he took his wife on their first date as young adults. And even though the Detroit location wasn't quite the same as the original, the parent company kept its signature – the venue's name scribbled across the glowing illustration in a timeless script:

La Perla Blanca

Its interior was hazy, exposed brick made up the walls, and purple décor accented light-blue trim at the bar. Bright lights flashed on shimmering bodies that writhed in their own sweat and sin as electrifying music engulfed them. A symphony of energy and excitement composed the atmosphere as people danced and reveled, lost in rhythm. The dance floor beneath their feet swirled like a kaleidoscope being churned by an invisible hand, twisting it until the original tiles were indistinguishable. Drugs moved and drinks flowed just as easily as conversation, in this place. Smiles, laughter, and lust replaced the stresses of life – allowing the weary to forget their troubles of today and embrace the blank slate of tomorrow.

How lucky he would have been if he'd been able to forget the past, if only for a night.

Connor lost himself in the heart of the club that was built around the blueprints of the original. It echoed the replication of memories, traits, and even his own lover – the woman within a machine. The blending of human and artifice, the transformation of consciousness into code; a replication of the "once unique" all in its own right.

Lights danced across his face, blossomed by the magnified glass of his rifle's scope, reflecting the complex emotions that clashed within him as he continued to observe. Much like himself, these souls were victim to the allure of progress, the endless possibilities that technology had offered; but beneath it all, there was a sense of loss, a craving for the simplicity of the past, and the unattainable desire to reclaim what had been taken from society. His gaze drifted from person to person, their expressions ranging from euphoria to longing, their erratic movements a testament to the complexities of individuality.

In a rare moment since the worst day of his life, he found himself yearning for a connection, for a tangible bond that transcended the realm of evolution and code. It was a thirst for the unfiltered human experience of love without loss, and triumphs without heartbreaks. No amount of technological advancement in androids would ever imitate the raw quintessence of human existence. He was doomed to a future of forever theorizing about what it would be like to exist as the real thing. But what he had...had been enough.

Now, he had nothing.

Transforming these thoughts into lethal intent, Connor bore their burden. Their weight fluctuated between 10 to 20 pounds, influenced by their load and the type of scope attached. For this special occasion, he chose the sniper rifle found at the Hart Plaza crime scene, a token of remembrance left for him by his lover's killer. He would take on the mantle that was handling the weapon that publicly assassinated her, just so he could dismantle a systemic cancer growing in Detroit.