The LED adorning his temple flickered between yellow and red as the reconstructed events unfolded before him. Another deviant/human homicide, another blood laden scene. This was all getting out of hand. Taking in the gruesome exhibition, it was evident this was one more provoked deviant case for the books, master brutalizing machine in a Red Ice haze, coaxing out an all too human outburst of rage and contempt from the battered android. He dipped the tips of his fingers into the blue blood smeared on the floor, bringing the digits to his mouth for further analysis.
"Connor! Don't you fucking dare!" Hank barked from across the living room. The android paused, sparing his partner a sideways glance as he lowered his hand. "Lieutenant, you know this is the most efficient way of determining a model's identification. Sending a sample to the lab will only delay our progress, and I'm afraid their results are not always as accurate. As you know, I'm equipped with the latest…" Hank threw up his hands in defeat, releasing an audible huff. "Ok fine, fine. Just...do that shit somewhere else. It's fucking gross." Connor only blinked after the seemingly agitated detective as he returned to the adjoining room to debrief an officer. His audio processors didn't quite catch what he was mumbling under his breath, but "fucking vampire" and "sparkly ass" were coherent.
Silence hung between the two as they returned to the DPD. Aside from the heavy metal blaring from the old vehicle's audio system of course. Connor couldn't make sense of Hank's love for the stuff. It was so...loud, and angry. He pondered this and many other things as he stared blankly out the window. More rain. Why was is always raining in Detroit? Thank goodness he was waterproof. His LED whirled with a soft yellow hue, a transition that hadn't gone unnoticed by his companion next to him. While Hank was rather enjoying what was a rare moment of solace, curiosity took hold and he turned down his music slightly. "OK Rainbow Bright, what's eating you?" The android snapped out of his musing, surprised by the sudden change in atmosphere. Androids didn't typically startle. He quickly composed himself once more, turning from the window. "I don't understand your question Lieutenant. What would possibly be eating me? I possess no organic components. Furthermore, my designation is Connor, or RK800 if you prefer." He'd had to correct his partner on 28 different occasions after being addressed inaccurately. Logic dictated that it was likely age related, yet Hank was all too lucid otherwise. "Ass-hat" was one of the more confusing titles he'd received, research bearing no evidence of any such adornment existing. Hank just rolled his eyes, reaching for the Volume knob, music filling the space once more. "Forget it."
Captain Fowler turned in his office chair to face the detectives he'd summoned immediately upon their return. "So, has this latest mess managed to shine any light on this...situation?" His hands were folded neatly on his desk as he eyed the two expectantly, but his demeanor was anything but calm. High stress levels, elevated heart rate, and a look that could kill. Connor concluded the Captain was not terribly pleased with their progress thus far. Hank only sighed. "You've been on this case for, what, 2 weeks now? And what exactly do we have to show for it? Let's see…" He mock-examined the reports in his hands. "...oh yes, right here: Fuck. All." An unenthusiastic flick of the wrist and the sheets of paper flew across the desk. Sitting back in his chair, he cast a heated gaze at the two detectives standing wordlessly before him. Connor shifted uncomfortably while Hank folded his arms, releasing another sigh. "Look, none of these cases seem to have any profound connection. From what I've gathered, they're just random acts of violence committed by defective models and…" "Hank!" Fowler slammed his hands onto the desk's surface, rising abruptly from his seat, "You and your tin man haven't gathered shit aside from a rapidly increasing body count!" Yup, he was pissed. "It's begun attracting unwanted attention from across the country, and I have everyone breathing down my neck to fix this fucking mess before it gets out of hand! I assigned this case to you because you're supposed to be the best, being a decorated officer and all." The delivery of that last remark held more cynicism than sincerity. The slight jab didn't sit well with Hank, and he let slip a glare directed at his Captain. He kept his mouth shut though. As much as the realization struck him, he wasn't entirely wrong. What the fuck happened? "And you're supposed to be CyberLife's poster boy!" Fowler's attention shifted to the stunned looking android. "Apart from a gut full of that blue shit, what the hell have YOU "gathered"?" Connor's LED spun wildly, flashing yellow and flecks of red. If he had any sweat glands, he'd surely be an absolute sopping mess right now. What was going to happen to him? Would he be sent back to CyberLife to be disassembled and evaluated for his lack of progress? Would they replace him? And...wait, why did he feel this way? Why did he FEEL at all? There must be a bug in his programming…"Hey, Robocop, I'm talking to you!" The Captain's voice rang over his jumbled thought process causing him to jump, however slightly. Hank placed a hand on his shoulder, picking up on his distress. This was getting ridiculous. "C'mon Jeffery, give us a break here. He's just as thrown by this whole thing as I am. That in itself should be a dead giveaway that this isn't just some open and shut case." Connor noted the hand on his shoulder. That was a first. Maybe the gruff man wasn't so terrible after all? Fowler pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing audibly before returning to his seat. After taking a moment to collect himself, he spoke again. "The IMF has been called in. They're sending an agent over this afternoon." "What?!" Hank's arms dropped, hands connecting with the desk with a force equal to that of his superior, much to Connor's surprise. "You're kidding right?" "Fowler shook his head. "I'm afraid it's out of my hands Hank." "This is bullshit! There's no way in hell I'm working with one of their Halloween mask, jet pack wearing clowns. I've already got HIM up my ass 24/7!" He abruptly shot a thumb back at Connor, who amidst the heated discussion, took a moment to process the strange accusation. So much for his partner's brief moment of compassion.
The Captain didn't hide his amusement over Hank's outburst very well, a slight grin tugging the corner of his lips. His eyes left the fuming man before him, directing instead to the office door.
"We have jetpacks? I must have missed that memo…" A feminine voice cut the tense air in the room. The two men spun around, taken aback by the sudden additional presence. She leaned against the door frame, arms crossed as she took in the amusing banter before her. Once all attention was directed her way, she stepped away from the door and approached the detectives, extending a hand. Connor's stomach flip-flopped, another strange sensation he couldn't make sense of. "Hello gentlemen, I'm (y/n), the agent sent by the IMF."