Disclaimer: the characters are the exclusive property of Quantic dream and come from the video game detroit become human.

Caïn's eye

The metal plate and revolver ran aground on the desk in a thud. Although the police station seemed to plunge into its usual routine, the heavy silence that seemed to have fallen on the open space showed obviously how much all this agitation was a pure masquerade. In fact, if the eyes not dared turn to the glass desk at the back of the room, all the ears were quietly focused on what was going on here. And it didn't feel good at all, judging by the agonizing silence of the two men standing face to face in the police captain's glass cage. Jeffrey was the first to break the silence in a firm voice, pointing to the badge and weapon he had just thrown at Hank.

"This plate and this revolver, you'll never see them again, Hank. It's over. You'll go to disciplinary board in the end of the month. In the meantime, I have been asked to suspend you so that you don't do more damage. I warned you, I told you I don't know how many times ... But of course, you didn't listen to me, right? It had to happen. That all you are abole to understand anyway, kicks in your bigass and slaps in your face. Congratulations, you have just burrowed you a bit more. But this time, Anderson, I will not save you. I'm tired of your bullshit. "

Calmly, the former police lieutenant shook his head thoughtfully. Contrary to what Jeffrey feared, he didn't scream. Inversly, for the first time in months, the old man seemed strangely serene and sober. , doubtfully, Jeffrey raised an eyebrow before venturing:

"You have nothing to say for your defense? "

Hank got up from his chair and pushed it back calmly, before leaning on it. Then, in a conciliatory voice, he contented himself with throwing him:

"What do you want me to say to you? Reed is a nasty bastard, and you obviously prefer to work with a pretentious and upstart jerk rather than with an experienced and over-stubborn cop. Have fun with this brat! I'm tired of all these shits. I have seen too much things in this life, Jeffrey. It's better like that. "

He didn't really like it ... oh no, the tone his old friend used didn't please him at all. His words sounded defeated, his face betrayed too many fights, and too many defeats. That lassitude he saw in those eyes reminded him of a time when, just after Cole's death, he had spent a whole evening talking to him in the locker room, hoping that he would put down his service gun that he was pointing at his temple. A drop of cold sweat slid down his back.

"Hank, listen ... maybe I can try one last time ..."

Hank's annoyed voice interrupted him:

"It's not worth Jeffrey. I'm fed up. I'm really sick of it. There's nothing that keeps me here again. Strictly nothing. Don't bother yourself any more. Thank you for everything, kisses to your wife and your kids... "

Jeffrey got up. He wanted to hold that bastard again. He would have liked to have the strength to give him an umpteenth second chance. But he couldn't do it, he could not! The lieutenant's actions had finally reached the ears of the highest authorities, especially since his altercation with this FBI agent, Perkins. He had fought like a lion to keep him his place in the police station after that ... but Reed's aggression was the last straw that had broken the camel'back. And Jeffrey still had children to protect. His older would get married next summer, and he was going to be grandfather in a few months. He couldn't afford to sacrifice his career now. Not for Hank. Not for a desperate cause, as touching as it is. He had been frustrated too many times to believe in him. So he just watched him leave the office, without a word. Then he let himself fall back into his chair, one hand on his forehead, as he stared at the orphaned metal plate and service weapon. His eyes burned him strangely ... shit ! Go to hell, Hank! He couldn't do anything for him. Nobody couldn't do anything for him now.

While Jeffrey was trying to part with his guilty feeling by stabbing his pile of files, Hank went to his office to collect his belongings. Without paying any attention to the curious glances, he began to remove his stuff from this workstation that had been his for years. But oddly, he felt no pain. What worried him the most was that he had no news about Connor for more than 24 hours. His gaze fell on Gavin. The young inspector's careless and almost provocative laught was one of the few things that break the respectful silence of this special morning. For a fraction of a second, their eyes met. And with a tiny nod, barely perceptible, Gavin invited Hank to join him in a quieter place. Then, he finished his cup of coffee before disappearing quietly to the toilet of the police station, undergoing maintenance. Hank quietly continued to pack up his things for a while, trying to keep a calm attitude despite the anguish that was crushing his chest and shaking his hands. After a few minutes he went to the door where Gavin had disappeared. No sooner had he passed it than the youngest threw a backpack into his arms before tolding him coldly:

"Change your clothes, grandpa. I'm sure they tail you like a tick on an old pet. As soon as you get out of here, you take the old gray Ford parked two blocks behind, next to the Donuts store. There is a surprise for you in the trunk and a package to deliver in addition. They already know everything there's to know. They'll explain you the rest on the road. So move !"

But Hank didn't move. He stared at Reed, his eyes mingling with apprehension and hope.

"Reed, you know for ..."

The young policeman sighed wearily and impatiently. He kept waddling from one foot to the other, nervous that someone would surprise them or that the new android of maintenance finish his cleaning and leave the place. For a moment, his eyes fell on the plastic manikin. He seemed so rigid, so false that it made him shudder. A perfect automaton dedicated to his task, and nothing else. So different from Rupert and Connor that they didn't even seem to belong to the same species anymore. This android was a part of this news robots whose would never be deviants. The latest toys of Cyberlife. They had succeeded.

"I'm fine, Hank, I'm fine! You'll get your junk again. Just do what I tell you, if you want it to work. And after that, get out of my life, all of you ... "

There were accents of regret and sadness in Reed's usually insolent voice, but Anderson didn't notice that. He opened the bag. It contained a black jacket, a light blue shirt and a faded jeans. The old man winced at the horrible outfit. Then he began to unbutton his shirt, before Gavin's voice stopped him as he looked away, visibly disgusted:

"Oh, let me go out before you undress! I don't want to have nightmares. I Hope you didn't drink at least? It would be stupid to have you arrested for driving while you are drunk ... "

Hank glared at the young inspector.

"I'm not stupid, Reed. I didn't drink anything ok? "

Gavin glanced at him, as if trying to devalue the accuracy of these words, then, with a mocking smile, he threw him in a provoking tone:

"Well, maybe it's true. Finally, I don't care, as long as you drive straight ... there is also a razor, a cap and a chisel in the bag. Do what you need but get rid of this tramp's head. They don't have to recognize you .. I go back before they notice my absence. Hoping I don't have to see the dirty faces of you and your fucking android again. "

Hank pulled out the different things of the bag as Reed put his hand on the handle. But as the young policeman was about to leave, he couldn't help but ask him:

"Why are you doing all this? "

The young man raised his head. Then, in an evasive voice, he simply replied:

"I have my reasons, and you'll know them soon enough. Hurry, Mr. Clean has almost finished his job. "

Hank smiled discreetly at the young wolf. He had never smiled at Gavin before. Never. They could not wear each other from the beginning. It had been necessary for the world to be on the verge of collapse, for the machines to turn against their masters, and for humanity to finally reveal its true face so that they could learn to understand each other. They weren't so different, basically.

"Reed? … Thank you. "

The policeman opened the door. He shook his head sadly, before whispering with a strange sincerity:

" Good luck... "

And the door closed. No sooner had It slammed than the old policeman was busy. He began by taking off his clothes to put on the new outfit chosen by Reed. Then he positioned himself in front of the mirror. And for the first time in years, he became fully conscious of his physical decay. His face, drawn by the nights of drinking and playing Russian roulette, had soaked up wrinkles as old scars that psychological wounds had left on his skin. His hair, once peppered and salt, had bleached because of his age and his memories, and had become rebellious. Their insolent length and wild indiscipline made him look like a shaggy bear barely out of hibernation. And his beard in battle didn't help that unflattering portrait. He sighed. Then, armed with a new resolution, he grabbed the razor and began cutting the unruly hairs on his face. In the silvery reflection, he saw the maintenance android start cleaning the last toilet compartment. He had to hurry. The scissors came alive right after the razor, taking off part of the length of his hair, the rest being trapped in an awkward ponytail. Then he positioned the cap on his head. Thus clothed and undone by this appearance, which years and pain had inflicted on him, he was almost unrecognizable. He grabbed the bag and hid it under one of the plates that covered the false ceiling. Then he left the police station's toilet, head down.

In the morning bustle of the police station, no one paid attention to this stranger who crossed the room. Witness to an investigation, suspect released, staff of the administrative department of the floor, basically, it didn't matter: it was difficult to enter this anthill without permission, but once in the heart of the building, getting out was otherwise easier. Without a glance at the fast-huddled business that summed up many years of his life, he crossed the security gate before crossing the hall and back to the street. He knew he wouldn't come back. He had understood this from the moment his eyes landed on the android to the eternally red light: he could never have recovered from the death of this imaginary son, and he couldn't save him in the enclosure of this city plagued by hatred and fear. This day could only end in two ways: by his death, or by a new beginning. So, he had entrusted Sumo to the neighbor for "a few days," and he had left his house full of memories the same way he had abandoned that desk and chair where he had spent so many years of his life: with a determined step and tight heart. It was the end of Hank Anderson's story. Now he only had to live to allow a small red diode to shine a little longer. It was the only thing that mattered, the rest ... the rest of his life was crappy. Connor was his last stand.

He passed an old white van parked a few meters from the entrance to the police station, just in front of the parking reserved for police officers. And he went to the alley where the old Ford was parked.

An hour and a half later, it was Perkins' turn to get close to the same van, the strange white ghost still on his feet, like a docile and discreet shadow that only coming to life when the situation required it. He patted at the back door of the van. Someone opened. Inside, two divided screens relayed continuously images of videos from surveillance cameras in the city around the police station. Perkins approached one of the screens and examined it carefully.

"Anderson's news? "

The agent Tyrell turned to his superior. He was a promising young recruit, but a little too enthusiastic and talkative, though very physiognomic, which meant that he was more often assigned to covert surveillance than to investigating with witnesses. Beside him, the computer expert, the Agent Faders, contrasted with his more advanced age and his more relaxed attitude. The experience of years of investigation had given him dark circles under the eyes and the habit of constantly chewing on a matchstick, as if to relieve the stress in grinding the poor piece of wood. He had worked for years with Perkins in his beginning, but he soon turned himself to hacking and remote surveillance rather than human corpses and shootings.

"He arrived this morning around 10:45, I think ... He had an appointment at 9:30 with Fowler for his layoff. I bet he wouldn't come with Faders but I lost! This story cost me $ 10... "

Perkins sighed. He would have given anything so as not to bear the young recruit. His glare, however, is enough to silence his digressions. If he wanted to join the field one day, he had to learn to temper his character ...

"He's preparing something, that's for sure. The team watching over his house warned us that he left his dog to his neightbourg this morning. But you probably know that already ... Since we didn't see him again. "

Perkins frowned, which prompted 900. The android approached the images of surveillance cameras. Instinctively, Tyrell pulled back his chair in a mistrust. Since the revolt, he didn't really like these things. Especially when these things had the same face that one of the leaders of the revolution and measured one more head than him.

"He didn't come out? Since 10:45 this morning? After a layoff? "

Tyrell shrugged:

"No, we would have seen it. The interview may have been longer than expected, where he is busy saying goodbye to his former colleagues. He had been working there for a long time ... "

Perkins wanted to plant his fist in the boy's face. Oh yes, the kid was promising, but he was as silly as a broom without its stick!

"Because you'll plan to party with your colleagues when I fired you? You can start preparing your starting pot then. "

Faders calmly spoke to delay the tension that was building up in his former teammate:

"The problem isn't the time spent in the police station, Richard. The big problem is that Lieutenant Anderson is the type of guy who only think of himself. I have been on his spinning business for months, and I can assure you that he has his little habits. He buys his donuts always at the same place every Tuesday, he goes to the bars after work, he takes out his dog every night at the stroke of eleven o'clock ... and he goes out to eat every day at 12.30 pm. Set like a clock! He seems upset when he has to shift his meal by ten minutes. For the moment, he still hasn't gone out to eat. That's why we called you ... it smells bad for the dog bisness too. I don't feel it, Richard. We need your permission to intervene ... We still don't know who is his accomplice, "

" Shit ! "

Perkins let out his anger. Entering the police station could be very dangerous. If Anderson was still inside and he saw him, he would change his plans, and the little strategic lead that the surprise would give them would disappear immediately. If he thought the old policeman knew he was being followed, he certainly didn't know how close they were to him and especially to his precious partner. But on the one hand, if Hank had actually escaped their surveillance and fled, every minute he took against them would drastically reduce their chance of arrest the RK800.

"I can watch the videos, if you like, Agent Perkins. "

The RK900's voice had risen calmly, as it was impervious to the tension and stakes of what was going on in this truck. Tyrell chuckled:

"Because you think you can spot a suspect better than me? Do you want to take my job C3P0? "

The android leaned his head to the side, not offended by the mocking tone of the human. He contented himself with answering calmly:

"I have very advanced, easy-to-recognize software based on 67 identifiable points on faces and human skeleton. I'm not questioning your skills, but I think my system can effectively assist you in determining if Hank Anderson has left or no the police station. "

It was Faders' turn to intervene:

"If we wait more than an hour and a half for you to see all the recordings, Anderson will have taken enough time to get lost. "

The rk 900 advanced to the videos while watching Perkins. It was his authorization he was waiting for, not that of the two other officers of much lower rank.

"I can reliably operate my recognition system even if you accelerate the video at a speed of twenty-six. This is our best chance to evaluate which approach to choose before entering the police station. I will just ask you not soliciting me during the operation, so that I can dedicate all my resources to the process. "

Perkins looked at 900 for a moment. There was something cold and almost terrifying about the machine's behaviour. One day, the world would be populated only by machines, their incredible physical, intellectual or sexual performances would lead humans to their own annihilation in laziness and pleasures. But for now, as scary as the last prototype of Cyberlife was, he had already demonstrated its formidable effectiveness in tracking down its predecessor. With a nod, Perkins accepted, and, without further formalities, 900 put a white hand on the video recorder as his fingers lit up with the strange blue glow so dear to the multinational. The video went back in time at a crazy speed, making the walkers dancing at a frantic rythm that human eyes struggled to follow unlike those of the machine. Suddenly, the movie stopped. The video resumed more slowly before settling on an image. The RK removed his hand and put a finger now tinged with false flesh on the shiny screen.

"Here, Agent Perkins. Hank Anderson left the police station at 11:20, exactly one hour and forty-three minutes ago. "

The three agents leaned over the video to take a closer look at the man the android pointed out to them. Perkins narrowed his eyes, as if this simple gesture could help him improve the man's fallible view face to the implacable accuracy of android sensors.

"Are you sure, 900? "

The android nodded energetically. Perkins still doubted, finding that the poor quality of the image and the lowered look of the designated man could be misleading. It's true that he was a bit the same size as Anderson, but it was hard to identify him as clearly ... but the voice of Tyrell finishes to remove all his doubts:

"Shit ! ... I think the protocol droid is right. That's Anderson ... But where he found these clothes and all that things? He had neither bag nor anything suspicious when he came in ... "

Perkins sat up. Tyrell may have been a jerk, but he was good in his field of activity. And considering Anderson's disguise, he couldn't blame him. Already, the computer expert tapped on his keyboard to try to follow the path of the fugitive on the various surveillance cameras. But obviously, the thing wasn't easy.

"Damn! He went through blind spots and made detours crossing buildings and private parking lots. He tries to sow us, this bastard! I search with the cameras of the district, but to recreate his way could take a good hour, perhaps more ... I put myself in it immediately .. »

An hour ... The lieutenant has already more than an hour and a half in advance. He had no time to lose. He suspected he wanted to cross the border with his damn Android, or prepare a dirty trick ... every minute he gave him was a win for Anderson and a defeat for him. He placed his headset on his head before ordering:

"900, come with me, we come in. We must find his accomplice to know where he went. You two, stay in touch and get ready. Keep seeing what you can do with the cameras, in case we don't find anything inside. Don't intervene, we don't have any mandate, so we must refrain from making waves, especially in a police station. However, I would surely need a computer support. I want to know where Anderson left. "

Then, without losing another minute, he got out of the van and headed for the police station.

Thank you for reading me and for your patience between two translations. I hope there weren't too much mistakes, and I'll see you soon for the next chapter! don't hesitate to tell me if you like or not, or what I need to improve.