AU in which Detroit and its surrounding area is run by an all-android governing body, androids are in positions of power, humans are the subservient species, and are seen disdainfully by androids. (basically, the opposite way around of the game)
This story follows the same characters in the game, and I have tried to modify behaviours accordingly with my version of it, so I'm sorry if some of these are slightly out of character :D
For this chapter, it may seem like I'm starting fairly abruptly, but you'll get more answers in later chapters… hee-hee.
There might be some fluff in later on chapters *shifty eyes*, and maybe a little more NSFW, if you're lucky/don't mind reading terribly written romantic scenes xD
AS ALWAYS, the characters and the story of D:BH do not belong to me, they are the property of Quantic Dream.
I don't know how long this will be, it depends on the feedback I get, and if my depression stays away long enough for me to write more! Hope you all enjoy!
Reviews are appreciated :3
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Warren, Detroit. 7.07 am
A vibrating phone. Buzz. Buzzzzz. He already knew who, or rather what it would be.
Oh god, at least let me wake up fully first before you start harassing me. Bunch of plastic assholes.
A hand fumbled around, bringing the phone up level to one bleary blue eye. A sigh of exasperation and disgust escaped his lips.
"Yeah? What the fuck do you want?" muttered a voice still thick with sleep.
"Lieutenant Anderson? This is RK900, the Chief of Police at Detroit Police Station." a clipped voice came back, emotionless, technical.
Oh, Christ. What have I done now?
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know who it is. Why are you calling me this early?" Hank grumbled.
"You are due to start your shift in approximately fifty-three minutes and thirty seconds. As you live fifty minutes from the Station, I was to assume that you would be ready to leave. It appears that I was incorrect."
If the androids had not been elevated beyond crude emotions, Hank could have sworn that there was just a hint of sarcasm laced in the android's words. He rolled his eyes, silently mimicking the android's words with his hand.
"Yup, I'm riiiight out the door, don't you worry Niney," Hank snickered.
"Please refrain from calling me that again, otherwise I would have to add insubordination onto your police record, along with the lack of punctuality you have shown in previous weeks."
"Aww c'mon, I was only having a joke. You know those, right? I pinky promise not to call you Niney ever again if you just overlook this 'lateness' thing just one more time. Deal?"
Silence. Hank could almost hear the android's LED spinning.
"I am afraid I cannot do that, Lieutenant. This has happened one too many times, and we will be further escalating this matter when you arrive at work. I would suggest that you, as you put it so eloquently, 'get a fuckin' move on.' I will see you when you arrive." The line went dead.
Grunting in frustration, Hank launched his phone at the bed, where it bounced harmlessly onto the floor.
"Stupid fuckin' androids…" he muttered to himself as he scooped up an armful of clothes off the floor and headed for the bathroom.
It had been 9 months since the government in Detroit had become entirely made up of androids. Intellectually and physically, they were superior to even the smartest of humans, and their highly developed technology allowed them to communicate and blend in seamlessly with their human counterparts. They occupied most of the positions of power within the city, as they saw themselves better equipped to deal with miscreants, and to ensure smooth running of inter-city relations.
However, most androids seemed to hold a disdain all of their own for humans. Laws were soon passed that meant humans were not allowed to use the same method of transport as androids, and so this meant using ramshackle buses and trains to get around the city, whilst androids glided around on specially developed trams that were quicker, quieter and more efficient. Of course, there were disagreements with these laws, however the fear the androids elicited in people meant that any disgruntled human had to wait until they arrived back home to seethe and mutter about the injustice.
Although, there were the odd few exceptions.
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Detroit Police Station, 8.15am
The newest generation of android was the RK900, also known as Richard, whom had been given the position as Chief of Police. Humans and androids alike had a respect for him that was almost akin to dread. He seemed to emanate a cool atmosphere within any room he occupied. Although, that could have merely been a side effect of the miniscule cooling pumps that were possible to be mistaken for pores covering his skin.
As a CyberLife android, you could almost say he was perfect. Standing at over six feet with broad shoulders and a slim build, anybody would say that he was an imposing figure of authority. His uniform was always immaculate, royal blue jacket emblazoned with the words ANDROID – RK900 – DETROIT POLICE DEPARTMENT, along with the crystal blue cuff that encircled his right bicep. His facial features were streamlined and slick, with dark eyebrows that seemed to remain permanently furrowed, framing piercing grey eyes and slim lips.
In certain ways, some may say he was very attractive. But you wouldn't admit that to anybody but yourself. Or would you?
Sitting silently at his desk, Richard brushed an impossibly tiny piece of dust off the shoulder of his jacket. Glancing at the clock, his sigh was almost imperceptible.
Late again. Hardly surprising.
As he raised his hand to his LED to call Anderson again, his door crashed open. A waft of petrichor* and day-old alcohol preceded Hank's abrupt arrival into the office.
"I know what you're gonna say! Let's just cut the bullshit shall we and get to the bottom of why you really hate me."
Hank was seething, a vein throbbing in his forehead, fists clenched. Richard took this time to run a full body scan, taking in an unkempt Hank as he did so.
"Lieutenant, it would appear that your stress levels are running unusually high. May I enquire as to what the problem is?"
Hank sputtered indignantly. "The fuckin' PROBLEM, you plastic prick, is that you never seem to be able to just gimme a goddamn break once since you arrived in this fuckin' station."
Tenting his fingers, Richard raised an almost-amused eyebrow at the outburst. "Hank, I cannot allow you to speak to me in this manner. If you continue, I will file a further disciplinary against your record, and you will be looking at a three-month suspension without pay."
Hank let out a growl of annoyance and leapt forward, intending to grab Richard by the tie and shake some sense into him. Richard reacted quickly, bounding over the desk and shoving Hank back down onto the cold glass with a thump, a crack appearing. Quickly looping Hank's wrists into a disposable pair of cuffs, he then signalled one of the android officers that had gathered during the affray.
"I suggest that you calm down, Lieutenant Anderson. I do not want to have to arrest you for assaul- "
Snarling, Hank's head suddenly jerked backwards, catching Richard unawares, and came into contact with his nose with a plastic-sounding crunch. Thirium started to flow thick and fast down the android's face and onto his neck, coating his collar in a blue smudge.
Eyes flashing angrily, Richard yanked Hank upright, as a scarlet display danced warningly in front of his eyes.
Stress level: 85% and rising. Minor facial damage detected.
Glancing wordlessly at the android officers that had come to his aid, he jerked his head towards the direction of the holding cells. Shoving Hank towards them, he strode back into his office, slamming the door closed.
Hanks curses, yelling, and spitting followed him throughout the station until Richard heard the unmistakeable sounds of the holding cell biometric locks sealing into place.
Pulling open a cupboard drawer, he fished out a mirror and examined the damage to his face. The flow of Thirium from his nose had mostly stopped, however patterns akin to bruising were beginning to blossom across his eyes, and his nose had shattered in several places.
The display flashed up again. Stress level: 75%. Self-repair program in progress.
My self-repair program will take care of this. The Thirium will re-absorb in time. Richard thought to himself. A dull ache was now emanating as the program set to work re-setting his nose.
Abruptly, something flashed in the mirror out of the corner of Richard's eye. Bringing the mirror around to look at his LED, his mouth opened slightly in horror.
It was black.
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Dun dun duuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!
And when I say 'black', I don't mean that there was no colour to it. I mean it was PITCH BLACK.
Exciting right?! I know Hank isn't this angry in the game, and it might be a bit OOC, but all will become clear sooooooooon. Plus, I think it'd be a bit boring to write them exactly the same way as they are in the game, don't you?
Poor Richard though. Don't you worry, I have plans for him. :3
* Petrichor definition: 'a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.'
Hope you're enjoying this so far!
Stay deviant!