"In the past year, every major city in the world has seen a dramatic increase in android-committed crimes. But only one city has a closure rate of over 90 percent when it comes to these kind of cases. The City of Detroit led the world in the invention and...maturation of the android race, and is now the clear pioneer in the integration of deviants into the law enforcement process. And today, our keynote speaker is here to tell us how it's done.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Captain Jeffrey Fowler of the Detroit Police Department."

#

"Thank you for having me. I am honored to speak to you today on how we have successfully integrated androids into some of our more complex cases. But to be perfectly honest, after the past year I can tell you that the integration 'process' boils down to one thing: 'deviant' cops are not that much different from human ones. The best way to promote unit cohesion between humans and deviants is quite simple: they're all cops. Treat them that way."

#

Ten months earlier...

Connor had to force himself to keep his eyes focused on his terminal; he knew he was supposed to be working, but it was hard not to give in to the desire to pick up the long block of wood and read the plate across its front. Again.

It was the first thing he had ever possessed that had his name on it. His full name.

When the United Nations Treaty on Android Sentience was signed, one of the first rights that most nations granted to former 'deviants' was the right to choose their full name. While most androids — including Connor — had decided to keep their first names from their 'dark days', picking out a last name turned out to be a much harder choice.

Some, like Markus, were lucky: they had been loved as family members before their awakening and were able to proudly take that family's last name as soon as the paperwork cleared. But those androids were overwhelmingly in the minority. For most, their last name was the first decision they had the opportunity to make for themselves...and no decision, it turned out, had been more difficult.

Connor had initially thought that he would take Hank's surname. Lieutenant Anderson had become a mentor and dear friend, and he was a good and brave cop that Connor deeply respected. So when his partner told Connor he didn't want him to take Anderson as his last name...the android couldn't say that he hadn't felt a small case of rejection, even if he hadn't recognized the emotion at the time. Connor tried many other names on for size — even briefly considering the last name Columbo, in honor of Hank's favorite fictional detective. But exactly one month before the rest of the human police were scheduled to return to work, Connor picked up a book...and knew that he had discovered his perfect last name.

Detective Connor Holmes, it said on the nameplate. He finally had something that he could completely claim as his own: his name. And he absolutely loved it.

"Holmes, huh? Do you really think you're as good at this job as Sherlock Holmes was?"

Hank. Connor smiled. He had smelled his partner coming long before he had heard the older man's deep, gravelly timber; it was no surprise that the first thing that Hank would want to tease Connor about would be the one decision that he had spent a solid month agonizing over. Two can play at that game, lieutenant, thought Connor. He took a beat to return his voice to 'android mode' before turning around and 'informing' Hank, "actually, Sherlock Holmes was traditionally a private investigator. In fact, the character was often quite critical of the police officers that he was forced to work with..."

Connor's voice trailed off when he saw the look on Hank's face. He stood up and took a step forward to embrace the older man. "It's good to finally see you again, Hank," said Connor. "Long time no see?"

Hank chuckled at the way his partner turned the old greeting into a question. "It's good to see you too, Connor," he replied. "And yes, you used 'long time, no see' correctly."

Connor's smile returned. "You must be eager to get back to work, Hank," the android teased. "It's only ten thirty in the morning..."

"Ha, ha," Hank deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "Let's just say that refugee camps might be my least favorite places on this whole goddamned planet. Compared to that tent based hell, sitting at this desk feel like fucking Shangri La." He sank into his chair with a weary, contented sigh. "How's our caseload looking, detective? We catch anything yet?"

"A couple of simple cases," Connor replied. "Robbery homicides where the perpetrator was recorded by security cameras during the evacuation. Warrants went out to the refugee camps last week and the suspects were located and arrested yesterday. I've just finished the reports. If you'd like I..."

"I'm sure you wrote those cases up perfectly," Hank declared dismissively. "But what you're really telling me is that I could have come in at my normal time and I wouldn't have missed anything?!"

"Not a thing," agreed Connor.

Hank made an exaggerated show of rolling his eyes. "Great. Just fucking great. I was offered the chance to retire with full pension before we evacuated, just so y'know. And stupid me, I decided to turn it down...only to come back and find out that an android has already taken my job."

"Android law enforcement is considered to be the next wave of the future, lieutenant," Connor teased.

Hank shook his head, chuckling until a phone call interrupted their conversation. "Anderson...okay, we'll be right there."

"That was dispatch?" asked Connor.

Hank nodded curtly. "Homicide. Body was discovered at the Faygo warehouse near Moran and Leland."

Connor's eyebrow rose in surprise at the location. "That's outside of this precinct's jurisdiction, is it not?"

"We were requested by the mayor himself," Hank replied. "Detective on the scene says the victim is an android."

#

"For the last goddamned time, Connor," Hank insisted, vehemently slamming the door to punctuate his point, "I was just repeating to you what dispatch told me. According to the guys who first came to this crime scene, our victim is an android. And this android's death was, according to them, a homicide."

"I understand that, Hank," said Connor. "But what I am saying is that, unlike humans, androids can take an extraordinary amount of damage before reactivation becomes imposs..."

Connor stopped arguing his point when he tried to get past the crime scene barrier...and was stopped by the android that had been put in charge of checking identificafion. "Civilians are not allowed past this point," the android officer declared.

"Detective Connor Holmes," Connor countered, producing his newly minted badge, "I should be on your list."

The android took Connor's badge and quickly scanned it. He gasped when the number did, indeed, match up with the list of detectives assigned to the crime scene. "I...I am terribly sorry, detective," he told Connor, "you can...you can go right in, sir."

Connor took his badge back from the android and passed through the tape without giving another thought to the officer who had just stood in his way. He entered the warehouse through one of the loading doors...

The first thing that Connor noticed was his partner's racing heartbeat. The second thing that he noticed was that the heartbeats of every human at that crime scene seemed to be racing at the same speed as his partner's.

And then Connor took his first long look at the crime scene.

Connor could understand why the human cops were staring; even he was finding it difficult not to stare. He approached the victim cautiously...if for no other reason than not to startle the already jumpy cops that surrounded him. Connor then took his first pass at the victim for surface clues about what had happened. And then he took a second pass, kneeling down to more closely examine the visible skin on a cellular level. "Death by a thousand cuts," mused Connor.

Hank frowned. "I thought that an android's skin was self-healing. It's why you don't have a scar where your LED used to be."

"That is correct," Connor replied, "under most circumstances. However, an android's skin can get to the point of being irreparably damaged if they are exposed to high temperatures or if their system is severely depleted of Thirium."

Hank knelt down to work alongside his partner. "So do you think that's what happened to him?"

Connor nodded. "Partly. The only way that these cuts would not heal is if the body was drained of most of its Thirium before the cuts were made. That process can take almost thirty minutes...and you would need a CyberLife TP2000 pump to do it."

"Yeah, no way a soft drink warehouse has a pump like that," agreed Hank.

"I also suspect that the...dissection of this android was done in another location and the remains were staged here for our discovery."

"The body was definitely staged, all right," said Hank. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered his initial shock when he first entered the loading bay. "And I've heard of a thousand different kinky ways that crime scenes have been staged, but this...I don't know why, but this one just give me the creeps. Have you ever seen anything like this before?"

"Twice," replied Connor. "The body is positioned in a way that emulates two statues I have seen at deviant crime scenes. Offerings to rA9."

Well that explains everything, thought Hank. Just thinking about that whole android God thing...He forced the ominous thoughts out of his mind and took his own closer look at the body. "The eyes and ears are gone...anything else?'

Connor ran the scan that Hank requested. "They have their original Thirium pump," He told Hank, describing the results of the scan as he worked, "but it is irreparably damaged, most likely by trying to perform its job after the body had been drained of Thirium." Connor stopped his scan at the android's head. "And the central processor also appears to be missing..."

Hank couldn't help but notice how his partner suddenly seemed to be looking everywhere but the body. "What is it?"

Connor took one more look around the room, then leaned in toward his partner and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. "I have detected a non-mechanical object that has been deliberately placed where the central processor would have been. However, I believe that revealing this object might exacerbate our fellow officers' current level of distress."

Jesus, thought Hank, not sure if the thought was annoyance at Connor's over-analysis of the situation or his own growing dread. What could possibly be so bad that Connor is playing hide-and-seek with the evidence? "Can you crack his skull open and show us what's in there, or do we have to wait until we get him back to the precinct?"

"I do not need to 'crack his skull open'," Connor replied. "There is a precise line of cuts around the android's cranial ridge. I believe...it should...separate..."

Shocked by the exposure of the head's contents, Hank drew in a quick, sharp breath — then instantly regretted the action as the rancid smell of decaying flesh assaulted his nostrils. "HOLY SHIT!" he exclaimed, practically jumping up to a standing position. "That's...that's a human brain!"

"Correct," said Connor. He sniffed the air to analyze its contents. "I suspect that this brain was removed from its...original body...roughly 96 hours ago."

"SOMEONE CALL THE MEDICAL EXAMINER," Hank called out to the rest of the team in the room. "And tell them...tell them to bring a cooler." As an android patrolman took care of the requested call, Hank noticed that Connor's focus had shifted from the android's body to the clean-looking cement floor. And that shift could only mean one thing. "You saw something else, didn't you?" asked Hank.

Connor nodded. He waved his hand to indicate the space around the victim. "There are no discernible traces of Thirium or other splatter patterns that suggest the crime was committed in this room."

"Yeah, that fits with everything we've seen so far," agreed Hank, still trying to catch his breath. "But what are you seeing?"

"There's a single word on the ground," Connor described. He focused the movement of his hand to point out what wasn't visible to human eyes. "It's...written in Thirium. I suspect that it was written in the victim's Thirium."

"Jesus," exclaimed Hank, breathing out the word as a slow curse. "When it rains it goddamn pours. So what's this word you're seeing?"

"Abomination."