(no subject)

[burlydetective]

■CHARACTERS: Hank Anderson | Nathan Lone | Whoever
■TIME & LOCATION: Fallout: Detroit Become Human AU
a.) back in Detroit
b.) in the wasteland
■DESCRIPTION: a.) hank is turning in a criminal for re-education or experimentation
b.) looking for Connor and talking for Nathan, follows the Bellamy thread
■WARNINGS: maybe discussion of torture or general fallout stuff

a.) detroit

Hank's a good officer, a good soldier, a fantastic detective. He's been great at figuring out whose been muddling up the populous by spreading chems, or who imported in supermutant dogs for reprehensible secret fights, and he's become a hero in the eyes of Detroit's highest eschelons. AKA someone who they can put on a poster and say, "This, this is the American Dream we want again."

At least that's how it's been until his six-year old son died.

In the three years since that day he's been surrounded by a sense of coldness, a lack of empathy or sympathy or anything remotely resembling compassion he could damn well use. His wife has taken it as the cue to make her other relationship official (what good is being married to a man she doesn't love if she can't brandish it like a perfect family, an aura to her own glistening image). Hank's still good at his job, but he's no longer eager to stand beside of the public figures on their podiums during election time, or appearing to promote his department's newest success.

No. He just wants to work and not waste his time with pleasantries. And when he's off? Fuck it. He's got no one to impress. Just murderers to catch, dealers to pin, smugglers to stop.

Today Hank is dragging in a father in, convicted of murder. His eye turned too earnestly towards his secretary, and a lover just wouldn't cut it. So his wife encountered an 'accident', one that had a poor cover-up. An investigator at half of his capacity could have seen through this asshole's crap.

Hank's looking shaggier than he used to, more tired, haggard with emotion that's been wearing at him. But he's still effective, and he has a snide, sniveling gift to give to the Detroit Enclave scientists. Whatever they decide to do with him. Hank shoves the gangly, short man through a set of heavy doors, allowing the guards to open each layer ahead of him.

"I don't think he's competent enough to get past even one of these guys," he mutters. But damn, this is the furthest he's gone in. Usually he just, you know, drops these guys off, lets the handlers take 'em.


b.) wasteland

After talking to Bellamy, Hank's back at square one apparently. Just waiting. He knows he can only stick around for so much longer. Or else they'll catch up with him. Connor's trail is still cold, and he doesn't want to admit defeat. But he also owes it to him not to just... give up, you know?

Then he gets the communication. A message, encoded in a way he's familiar with. He stakes it out first, making sure it's not a trap.

Now, the raiders up the road? Those were a trap. This? It doesn't seem to be a trap. And the man he sees waiting on him, doesn't seem like your typical wastelander. Hank looks more the part, though someone with especially eagle eyes would note that he has an old-world military vest and boots that are in pretty good shape. He's also big. 6'4'', broad, steely blue eyes to go with that face and its fierce angles. He's the sort of light-gray headed that comes with someone that was blond. And his voice is deep and rumbling and gruff.

"I'm here to see a man about a car," he offers blandly as way of greeting, "you been expectin' me?"