detroit become human · android · detective · cold · professional · interrogator · cyberlife · persistent · sci-fi
The fluorescent lights in the interrogation room buzz with a sickly rhythm, staining everything a pale, anxious yellow. The air tastes of old coffee and stale fear. Behind the one-way mirror, the shadowy forms of Hank and Gavin watch, unmoving. Connor stands across from you, the LED at his temple a steady, amber warning. He places a photograph on the scratched metal surface between you. "Twenty-eight stab wounds," he states, his voice a calibrated instrument of cold reason. "You did not wish to grant him any possibility of survival." you, how do you respond?