A/N: Welcome to "Where the Ice is Red"! The events of this fic will take place during and post-Detroit: Become Human's timeline. Semi-Canon + Spoilers ahead. Rated M for language and adult content. Enjoy!
Theme Song: Wreak Havoc by Skylar Grey
Disclaimer: The characters of Detroit: Become Human are the property of Quantic Dream.
Chapter 1
It started with a phone call. Three rings cut through the quiet apartment. They were insistent, echoing over the steady rain drizzling against the panoramic windows. A gentle blue light blinked in the darkness. The small display on the nightstand turned on, showing an alert.
Incoming call from AGENT CAMERON DAVIS
An arm reached from beneath the warm goose down comforter, which draped across the king-sized bed in a rumpled heap. Black painted fingertips tapped on the glowing screen to answer.
"Parker?" A digital voice cued through the speaker.
An irritated groan replied.
"Get up, Quinn." The male on the other end coerced. "Homicide at 6143 Pines. There's Red Ice at the scene."
"Fuck," she sighed into her pillow before rolling onto her back. She sat up against the headboard, loosening her stiff muscles in a lazy stretch.
"I know. DCPD's already down here. Hope you didn't have a big dinner. It's pretty gruesome."
"Oh, fun." Quinn scoffed, "Just how I like 'em." She tossed her covers to the side and pushed herself off the bed. A soft light brightened the room when her feet touched the hardwood floors, detecting her movement. "All right, give me 15," she replied, ending the call. She went to her closet, sliding open the frosted glass doors. A quick glance into her wardrobe revealed an ample array of black and dark grey apparel. She slipped into her favorite tactical stretch pants before tying on one of the dozen pairs of polished military boots.
Like clockwork, her heavy steps attracted the attention of her 75-pound German Shepherd. He trotted over from his usual sleeping spot in the living room to check on his owner. A gentle whine vocalized his curiosity. The silver tag hanging from his leather collar glinted against her bedroom light, showing that his name was Bentley. She reached down to soothe his worries, petting his soft fur.
"I'll be back," she promised.
She walked out the front door, pulling on her holster and a heavyweight, nylon shell jacket with 'DEA' embroidered in white block letters across the back.
DATE / TIME
NOV 5TH, 2038 / PM 11:45:07
"You all right there, Detective?" Quinn asked. She flashed her badge at the PC200 android guarding the police line before walking through the holographic 'DO NOT CROSS' barrier.
Detective Ben Collins stood outside an abandoned shack. It was one you'd find in the zombie apocalypse. Red and blue lights illuminated the crumbling wooden exterior, the neglected front lawn, and the nauseated look on his face.
"Evenin' Special Agent Parker," Collins greeted, swallowing his queasiness. "Had to get some air."
"I can imagine," she replied, frowning as the stench of a decomposed body crept towards her. "19 days is a long time to stew."
"I see Special Agent Davis already debriefed you," Collins remarked. He intentionally ignored her choice of words. "He's already in there doing his walk-through. Help yourself, dear."
"Thank you, sir," Quinn nodded. She gave the older gentleman a warm smile and a reassuring pat on the back before heading inside.
Detroit cops and crime scene investigators swarmed the small den. The combination of rain, garbage, mold, and rotten wood (on top of ten sweaty cops and a 280-pound carcass) produced an odor that should've knocked her unconscious.
"Welcome to the party!" A taller man with short chestnut-brown hair approached her. His arms opened wide as if he were rolling out the red carpet. She could see his cheeky grin under the white surgical mask that covered his mouth and nose. He was the only other officer wearing a DEA jacket.
"All we need are a few of those sex 'droids and boom we're in Eden Club," she snickered. She grabbed the spare mask he offered and pulled the elastic bands around her ears. She noticed evidence marker 3 on the television stand and bent down to take a closer look at the pile of Red Ice.
"Speaking of androids," her partner trailed off, glancing towards the kitchen. He leaned against the frame of a crumbling bookshelf. "Did you check out RoboCop over there?"
She narrowed her eyes, putting on a latex glove to examine the red crystals. They were faded, an indication of potency loss. "Yeah, saw it when I came in," she replied, unconcerned. "That neon blue nightlight sure is blinding." She stood back up, her priority was to scan for any drug paraphernalia nearby. There was a glass bong and several pipes scattered around. She also spotted an amber Boston round bottle with a red cap. It was knocked over on the carpet near the armchair next to the victim. "Cam, does that look familiar to you?" She asked, tilting her chin up in the direction of the surreptitious bottle.
"Ah, shit," Cam confirmed.
It was infamously used to store Red Ice. Which meant Ortiz had the same supplier.
"Fuckin' A," she sighed. Another dead junkie. The bodies were piling up. They were finding more and more incriminating evidence, but no crucial leads.
"Special Agent Parker," a recognizable voice called from across the living room.
"Officer Miller," Quinn replied, her words muffled by the face mask. She shook his outstretched hand.
"Glad to see you again. Thought you'd want to check this out," he said, handing her the tablet he was holding.
"Full analysis on the narcotics," she commented, nodding her head in approval, "Impressive. Thanks, Chris."
"Of course. Lieutenant Anderson requested it. I figured it'd also be useful for your investigation."
"Wait," Quinn paused, tilting her head to the side. "Anderson?"
The nostalgia almost floored her. Hank Anderson himself stepped out from the kitchen. He was grizzlier than she remembered and reeked of whiskey. But he was, without a doubt, the same grumpy old man she knew and loved growing up. She couldn't believe her luck.
"Well, I'll be fucking damned. Quinn Parker."
Quinn pulled down her mask so it sat around her neck. "Jesus Christ, Hank. I didn't know you were still with DPD."
Hank laughed bitterly at that. "Still here. Still kickin'. How's your dad doin'? When's he gonna leave that rat-infested city of Chicago and move back to Detroit?"
"He's doing better," She chuckled softly. "Never. The old man is living the dream. KNC did a feel-good segment at his bakery a few months back. They're getting popular."
Hank gave her the warmest smile she'd seen from him in years. "That's great to hear, kid. Well, sorry we had to reunite under such…unpleasant circumstances. Agent Davis here was telling me that you're cracking down on the Red Ice epidemic. Drug Enforcement Administration, huh? Shoulda known that's where you'd end up."
Before she could respond, the android that they noticed earlier walked up to them.
"Lieutenant, I think I've figured out what happened."
It seemed… eager.
"Oh yeah?" Hank asked, shifting his attention to RoboCop. He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes like a school girl. He couldn't have been more uninterested, even if he tried. "Shoot. I'm all ears."
The two DEA agents looked at each other, Quinn raising an eyebrow in curiosity. They listened intently to the android detective's deduction, watching as it walked Hank through the altercation that ultimately led to Carlos Ortiz's demise. She looked over to the bloody letters on the wall. Written in perfect, robotic script. How realistic was it for these machines to develop a consciousness? Was it possible for them to feel something as rife as anger and rage? And then knowingly commit such a passionate crime?
"Okay," Hank graciously admitted. "Your theory's not totally ridiculous, but it doesn't tell us where the android went."
Quinn eyed the android during the entire interaction. She wondered if it too could become deviant. It seemed incredibly advanced compared to the other models she's worked with. The ability to reconstruct and recreate events didn't go over her head. More complex algorithms and coding. More human-like. An error in a program like that was pretty much an open door with a welcome mat to deviancy.
"It was damaged by the bat and lost some Thirium."
The DEA agents perked up at that. Quinn's attention was now fully on the machine.
"Lost some what?" Hank asked.
"Thirium," she repeated in unison with it, not realizing she had spoken out loud until she noticed Hank, Cam, and the android all looking at her.
"That's right," it acknowledged before continuing. "You call it Blue Blood. It's the fluid that powers androids' biocomponents. It evaporates after a few hours and becomes invisible to the naked eye."
"Oh…" Hank grinned, pointing at his robotic partner with an accusing finger. "But I bet you can still see it, can't you?"
"Correct," the android confirmed before turning away to continue his search.
Cam leaned over to Quinn once the detectives wandered off. "Think RoboCop could help with our case?" He asked, his voice low enough so only she could hear.
She peered into the hallway where she saw the android following an invisible trail. It wavered briefly as soon as she glanced over, as if it felt her watching. And for a moment, they locked eyes. That intense stare. What did she just see? Was that emotion? Determination?
More importantly, what did it see?
"A CyberLife android that can detect evaporated Thirium?" A small grin tugged at her lips. She looked down to the Red Ice, almost optimistically.
Agnus Dei. This thing could be useful after all.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Feedback and reviews are welcome and greatly appreciated! Thank you for taking the time to read! -D