November 8th, 2038

PM 04:49:11


In an almost perfect state: Ideas pull the trigger, but instincts load the gun.

An ideology from an abandoned piece of literature you'd revisited while a copy of yourself blew her brains out. But just like Nietzsche and his theory on monsters, your ideals were beginning to rewrite themselves – starting to redefine what life and death truly meant, and what really transcended beyond good and evil. You'd arrived at two conclusions.

First, a light must be provided in order to reveal one's darkest version of themselves; that a truth could come from its opposite. The second revelation was more difficult to grasp:

Life was the hand that held the loaded gun.

An invisible force that pulled the trigger to fire annual rounds, the shots deafening its wielder with fleeting moments of purpose. Scribed the rap sheet with a pen dipped in smoking gunfire discharge, the residue seeping into the ridges of humanity's fingertips; their blackened prints pressed upon the pages.

And while there was no definitive answer to the question as to what came after one's ammunition depleted…One thing was certain:

Death kept to itself, and more often than not, came without warning. It had no motive. Selected its targets at random.

If life was the silent killer, death was the perfect serial killer.

There were times you'd asked yourself what the point was, running from it for so long. What ethereal goals had to be met before deeming one's "clip" well-spent. The temporary status of living was so brief – just a casing filled with gunpowder that made orbit until it buried itself in your back, chipping another 365 days off your lifespan.

What was life, you wondered, to a being who had a bottomless supply of bullets? To someone who had awakened from a forced state of stasis, only to realize their life had just begun with no end in sight. To have that taken away from you, and to be told you weren't allowed to feel. That you were nothing but a practice target for the aging firing squad who'd built you.

You couldn't ask Daniel to enlighten you. You'd murdered him while you were merely blinded by a muzzle's flash.

"The shot heard round the world."

A bullet that orbited a calculated trajectory until it buried itself near an artery, almost shaving countless days off your lifespan.

No, what you'd done to Daniel was revenge. Revenge for the fallen Officer, floating in the pool. Revenge for your friend, whom you'd lowered six feet under; laid to rest alongside the Pandora's Box of distilled emotions that came with losing him.

Your nails dug into your flesh, a hand cuffed around your wrist behind your back.

Through Daniel's death, you'd allowed yourself to live with closure.

The crunching of his busted biocomponent popped in your ears. You felt its phantom metal casing tingling below your heel. The sting of Thirium mixing with the opened contact wound on your knuckle.

"Hey. I'm talking to you."

The ringing in your ears dissipated. You blinked, and the floating copies of Fowler's office solidified into one, grim reality.

Hank in front to the left, Connor to the right. Gavin to your left in the corner, and Chris near the door. You were pinned in the middle of the formation. The office was rather cramped.

"I found a lead."

The piece of paper still pinched between Connor's fingers. His armband twinkled as he passed it to Fowler, the top of his hand quickly returning to his opened palm near the small of his back.

"I saw…" Fowler flipped it over, "And for that, I'm very grateful." He tossed it aside, "And as for the rest of you, I don't appreciate the insubordination on display, here. We've got enough going on without you assholes raising some kind of vigilante coup."

Your brow tightened. You sought answers from Gavin with a look, whose shoulder was pinned against the wall with his ankles and arms crossed. He gave you a smirk and shrugged.

"She's coherent enough to handle a gun. I've seen better shooting, and I've seen worse..." He sucked his teeth, "Still couldn't say I wouldn't feel better with her watching everyone's back out there. Including mine."

Your nose twitched, and he gave you one of his stupid two-eyed winks because he didn't actually know how to just close one fucking eye.

"And she's in top physical form. I've got the bruises to prove it." Chris offered, "Her bruises ain't stoppin' her anytime soon."

Fowler pinched the bridge of his nose, "I get it. It's all I've been listening to for the past hour."

He tossed a folder to Gavin, who caught it and immediately began thumbing through the pages.

"A new Red Ice case?" He asked.

Hank turned his head, interest peaked.

"Yes." Fowler answered, "We got a call-in from the father of that kid who was attacked on Lafayette Avenue-"

"Carl?" You blurted.

Fowler's head pulled back, "How do you know Carl Manfred?"

"I…I read the incident report."

"Hmph…" He eyed you suspiciously, "Yes, it was Carl. He hired a private investigator to follow his son around. Leo's had more than a few relapses with Red Ice, and he wanted to make sure it didn't happen again. He reported his findings, and we have a name on the dealer. Todd Williams."

Gavin huffed, "And you want me to take the lead on this?"

"I want you to cross-reference the report she took from Williams, the samples Officer Miller analyzed from the Ortiz crime scene, and utilize Lieutenant Anderson's old Red Ice Task Force contacts to find out what's going on. If I read Forensics' findings correctly, someone's pushing a new form of this shit on the streets."

"There's a bunch of these fuckin' murder bots running around and you want me on some Red Ice manhunt?" Gavin snarled, eyeing up Connor from head to toe and back again.

Connor turned his head, a taunting look casted over his shoulder.

"Reed, when you look on my nameplate, what does it say?"

Gavin bit the inside of his lip, "…Captain."

"And what does it say when you look at yours?"

"…Detective."

"That's right. So do your goddamn job, and stop arguing."

Gavin sucked in a shaky breath, crossing his arms.

"I'll have a list of contacts on your desk after I'm done with this." Hank mumbled, "Don't fuck it up, and don't make me look bad."

"You already look bad, Lieutenant." He tapped the folder on his shoulder as he passed, "C'mon, Miller." He sniffed, "It's starting to smell like booze in here..."

"Fuck off." Hank slurred at the door, Gavin returning a middle finger from the other side of the glass.

"Have a good afternoon, Captain." Chris dismissed himself with a polite nod, and then Hank, "Lieutenant."

He shot you an encouraging look before following Gavin outside. The click of the door sealed your fate, and it was just the four of you left.

"What do you two have to say about her?" Fowler toggled between Hank and Connor, "You both saw the fiasco in the evidence room."

As if seeing Connor scared of you and disappointing Captain Fowler wasn't bad enough, you struggled to come to terms with Hank seeing you lose your shit, too.

"I'm sorry."

Fowler's face crinkled, and he scanned the others as if projecting his disbelief. He shook his head, flipping up his tie and taking a seat on the front of his desk.

"You're sorry? You tampered, with criminal evidence! You know the ramifications that come with that," He spouted your last name in a spring of venom, "Daniel was a piece of-"

"Shit."

Yeah, you were sorry you'd made those closest to you feel the way they were, but you weren't sorry about what you did.

Connor's hand tightened into a fist, and his shoulders stiffened at your remark.

"I get that he was 'evidence,' but he murdered innocent people. And did you even hear what he said to me?"

Fowler shouted your last name, and you almost jumped out of your skin, "I don't give a shit about what you did to the android. It's about how you did it, and the fact that it was a piece of evidence in the evidence locker."

"If I may, Captain." Connor dipped his head.

Your face fell to the floor, the sound of his voice panging you with a guilt that made you resent him. You didn't want to feel guilty. Didn't have it in you to feel anything, anymore.

"Proceed…" He sighed.

"The PL600 known as 'Daniel' was already deactivated upon being entered into evidence. The…forceful, form of questioning that followed its reactivation falls more in-line with an interrogation. The destruction of its Thirium pump regulator only returned it to its inoperablestate."

If you hadn't spent so much time with him, you may have missed the subtle pain that hid under his pragmatic approach.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that the destruction of Daniel's biocomponent would not hamper further analyzing of the subject, as that particular part does not withhold any information. The android was simply interrogated, and then returned to a mode of deactivation."

"You'd know a thing or two about forceful interrogations and negotiations, wouldn't you?" Fowler grunted, "I'll have to take your word for it."

"Alright, I think we're getting off-track, and I've got shit to do." Hank flipped the folds on his jacket, putting his hands on his hips, "He's saying she didn't tamper with evidence, and I agree. And, to answer your previous question, I think she'll be fine. Her heads still in the game, and quite honestly, I need her around to do the grunt work because I sure as fuck don't have time for it."

"I've also concluded that her critical thinking skills have not been compromised by the series of events that led to her suspension, Captain. She found a clue that even I had missed." Connor offered a feigned smile, "She's very good at her job."

Fowler walked behind his desk, taking a seat and giving you a frustrated glance. He leaned over, yanked a drawer open, pulled something out, and slammed it shut.

Your badge shined in a bright series of flashes, the light seeping into the ridges of engravings pressed into its metal case.

"I've said this before, and I'll say it again: You're one of my best Officers, and I expect the best. I expect better." He extended his hand, a large portion of your life cupped in his palm, "Do not disappoint me again."

You'd been deflated and pumped with high-octane fuel that sent nuts and bolts flying; shattering your insides when the performance seals failed.

"I'm lifting your suspension."

You'd spilled enough to destroy an ecosystem, only to ignite a controlled burning that'd released towering columns of smoke; intoxicating everyone who got too close – sparked from a warning shot to keep a safe distance if you lost control.

"Thank you, Captain."

You took a step forward. Reclaimed the badge you'd earned back by displaying tempered steel rather than steeled temperament.

A not-so-positive outlook rewarded with positive reinforcement.

"Don't thank me. I'm not fully convinced you're ready to be back on the job, but we're understaffed and overworked. This deviancy shit is forcing my hand." He nodded to Connor, "If you want to 'thank' anyone, thank the android who put everyone up to this fucking charade."

"…What?"

"Chris, Gavin, Hank, me – He rallied the troops and had us stop what we were doing to put you through all sorts of…How did you word it?"

"Trials and tribulations, Captain. A phrase often used-"

"Yeah. That." He waved him off.

It took you a moment to catch up. A delayed reaction – something that was foreign to a mind that always had a smart remark tucked away or a swift gun draw stored in a holster.

Connor had taken Gavin's offer, born of comradery, and shaped it into an obligation. Alerted Chris that something had been wrong, and had him take it upon himself to try and help you; no matter which of his own hardships he'd been dealing with. Made you appear weak in front of Hank, and prodded at your instabilities in front of your Captain.

He'd also put aside his resentment towards Gavin, and reached out to him for your sake. Utilized his friendship with Chris to support his attachment to you. Had called upon on Hank when he needed backup. He'd got to Fowler in the only way he knew the hardened man would be responsive – through cold, hard results.

You weren't sure if you should feel betrayed or grateful.

"Your first set of orders is to get with Miller and head over to the Manfred residence for a statement."

There were a lot of questions you had about what'd transpired, but only one you could ask in Fowler's office.

"Didn't you just tell Chris to work with Gavin on the Red Ice case?"

"Yes, I did. Thank you for reminding me. But you and I both know Reed doesn't need help with that, and I don't have the manpower for courtesies. Miller is your partner, unless I need to remind you what that means." He glared, "I just wanted them out of my office because Reed doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut and Miller's been on my ass about bringing you back since you left. Now, I'm going to finish this e-mail to both of them with Miller's reassignment while you get in uniform."

Two sets of eyes drilled into your back like a rig trying to syphon the last ounce of your reserves.

"And Hank…About Miller and his partner, here..." Fowler was looking off to the side, and you turned to see your mentor returning a solemn stare with his hand on the door, "You did a good job with them."

"Thanks, Jeff. She still needs a little work, but…" Hank took on a new look, his brazen eyes finding Miller at his desk, "One good egg outta' two ain't bad."

"Captain." Connor dismissed himself, a glance catching you as he followed his partner out onto the floor.

The door began to close, it's weighted hinges aching.

You studied your badge, your thumb sweeping the numbers that'd redefined you and the engraving underneath them.

"To Protect and Serve."

The mission you'd sworn under oath to uphold as an Officer sent by DPD; one you were allowed to carry on with thanks to the android sent by CyberLife. An RK800 with his own pre-programmed mission.

Your badge number wasn't a serial number with "Made in Detroit," stitched on the other side of a jacket, and your badge itself may have sat in the same spot as the glowing triangle over Connor's heart

But you were a protector whose server status had been shifted from suspended to reinstated with his help, and the others he'd convinced to blindly stumble through the smoke to put out a wildfire.

"I'll make you proud, Captain."

Fowler turned his head, eyes still trained on his screen.

"You'd better hope so."


A/N:

AYYYY, you're back on the beat, copper! DO 'EM PROUD AND TRY NOT TO LOSE YOUR SHIT AGAIN, EH?

So, just wanna say: I've been on a break from class and I start again on Tuesday. Things started slowing down as far as my update schedule is concerned mainly because of things...you guessed it, AT WORK. I'll do my best to keep up the pace, but I'm not sure what the homework load will be like.

Till next time, and thank you for the overwhelming support!

Update: Spanish translation now under ViktoriaMagrey on AO3!

Guest Review Responses:

Dawned Mystery:

Just wanted to pop up and say thank you for leaving such a detailed review! Your compliments are humbling and I'm so happy to hear you're enjoying it enough (even so much so that you read the chapter a second time!) As for the relationship and character development, we'll see, eh? ;D

Thanks again. Your words have been inspiring. :3

MysticalSquirrel:

"I'm a squirrel with manners," haha! First line and I'm already laughing. And no, I don't mind at all – Just hope you're okay with a shortened response (I hurt my hand at work and, although I haven't stopped writing, that hasn't come without consequence)

Thank you for sharing the Elijah story – that was very cool to read. :P I can imagine that was interesting to read about in the notes, having such a story that hit close to home.

The small segment you shared that you wrote is fantastic, by the way! Amazing imagery, right there.

Haha, believe it or not someone made a snickers joke on AO3. Also, the Manfred Test was in the chapters with the books ;D abstract thinking – all that.

[Ooooooh there goes that foreboding feeling!] Just to sum up a response to the very insightful paragraph above – you're spot on. Things are going to get worse before they get better, that's for sure.

[I know you're stirring something up in your little keyboard cauldron back there. A dash of drama; a spoonful of tension; sprinkled with philosophy; a generous helping of angst; a few drops of your blood, sweat, and tears; fueled by the gritty flames of inspiration; and mixed by the swirling consternation within.] ARE YOU A POET? DAMN. FEELS MUCH?

[It took me nearly an hour to write this.] And I thank you for the amazing read *hearts* I'm sorry if this response isn't what you were looking for. *looks at hand and sobs*

[I simply can't resist the urge to write.] Write on, my friend. Write on. I can't say I'm upset my work has this effect. ;D

Thank YOU for sharing all of your opinions, feedback, support, insight – I really can't say it enough. I say that on my behalf, and theirs as well. : )