His sensors could pick up the glass shattering only a few rooms further. They picked up the panicked screaming of the civilians still in the building, the aggressive shouting of the members of the special FBI unit that was storming the building, the confused questions of the police officers who had been suddenly interrupted in their work.

Connor shouldn't have come here.

He should have tried to flee the city, to go underground, but he just couldn't stand the thought of just vanishing without giving Hank his last farewell. So, he had come here, hoping that he would find the older men, but he hadn't been in the building.

And now he was running down the hallways of the precinct, trying to escape the human hounds that had somehow managed to follow him here.

He shouldn't have come.

"Try to capture the subject alive!" he heard someone shouting. "Cyberlife wants it for study."

"Fuck Cyberlife," a second voice barked back. "They're responsible for all of this. We should just destroy every metal can we come across."

"That's an order," the first voice reprimanded the other speaker. "Now, sweep out and find it!" Connor could hear their combat boot shuffling over the tiled floor, the clicking of the safety hatch being released.

Probability of the building being surrounded: 78%

They were coming from both sides of the hallway. 6.9 seconds until one of the agents would turn around the corner and see him. His preconstruction showed him that there was only 14% of a chance that Connor would be able to disable both of them before they could alarm the rest of their team.

[ ] Hold The Ground

[ ] Hide In Office

His optical units were highlighting the three doors on his right side. Connor chose the office in the middle, even though all three of them had the same probability of him being detected: 67%. He tore the door open, slipped into the room and closed it behind himself, trying to be as quiet as possible as to not give himself away to the FBI agents.

Immediately, Connor scanned the room: A filing cabinet, a desk with a computer on it and a map of Detroit on wall on his left side. The only hiding place was under the table, everything else would leave him exposed to anyone who walked in. Falling to his knees, Connor scrambled under the table just in time before he could hear the door slowly being opened.

Someone entered the room, but the sound of their shoes on the ground didn't match the sound profile of the government issued combat boots the FBI agents were wearing. His sensors allowed Connor to place the person in the room as they walked towards the file cabinet and opened one of its drawers. They rummaged through the files before they found what they were looking for and closed the drawer again.

Then they made their way around the desk. If Connor was human, he would have held his breath and prayed that the person wouldn't find him, but he wasn't, so the only thing he could do was watch the number rise on the notification that told him the probability of being discovered with each step the person was taking.

67%...78%...88%...

Only a few seconds left and then they would turn around the corner of the desk and see Connor hiding underneath.

…95%...

He could see their shoes and pants legs. Adidas Superstar, size ten, produced 2020, collector's value for this model up to 500 Dollars, worn. Basic jeans, 67% cotton, 32% polyester, 1% miscellaneous.

Then they stood in front of the desk now.

…100%.

Gavin Reed was starring down at Connor, his expression frozen in a mixture of shock and anger. Before the police officer could open his mouth, though, the door was thrust open and this time the two FBI agents entered the room.

"Sir, we're looking for a deviant android who must have come through here," one agent spoke to Reed. "Have you seen it?" Connor knew that he was done now.

Probability of being discovered: 99.9%

Reed's gaze flickered towards Connor. The FBI agents wouldn't notice, the light wasn't bright enough and even if their eyes were working at full capacity (which was never the case with human eyes) they wouldn't have been fast enough to catch the shift, but Connor's processors had been specifically designed to notice even the slightest change in a suspect's demeanour, so he saw it.

There was nothing he could do. All of his advanced bio-parts and his tremendous processing power and all Connor could do was cower under a table and wait for Reed to betray him to the FBI agents; one android to his fellow humans. That wasn't even a question.

"No, I haven't seen it," Reed replied. "Maybe it tried to get through the back entrance." The FBI agents turned on their heels and ran out of the room, intent to catch Connor. The android, meanwhile, stared at the police officer who until now he thought hated him with a burning passion intensely.

"Leave," Reed hissed. Connor scrambled from his hiding place, smoothing down his jacket with his hands when he stood on his feet again. The familiarity of the gesture was soothing, especially as the experience now had shaken his processors to the core.

"Thank you," Connor said. His routines couldn't come up with a reason why Reed would help him, but having been partnered with Hank, Connor had learned that humans could always surprise you – in good and bad ways.

"Don't!" Reed snapped. "Just go." Connor turned around and walked towards the door.

"I didn't do it for you," Reed called after him as Connor passed the threshold. "It will be I who's gonna take you in and not some FBI pricks from DC. Next time I won't hesitate." Connor just nodded. Then he turned right and ran.

The next time they faced each other, Connor put a bullet through Reed's head.

The man had led the assault force on their hideout and as they had fought in the narrow hallways of the compound, Connor had hesitated for a split second, because he remembered how the man had helped him that one time. How he had seen Connor at his weakest and had shown him mercy.

That hesitation had cost Lucy her life.

On that day Connor had vowed that he would never hastate again when it came to Reed.

All these thoughts swirled through Connor's processors as he stood on the other side of the street and looked upon the building that housed the Detroit City Police Department. Police cars were parked in front of it, officers in their traditional blue either determinedly walking up the steps towards the front door or mingling with others on the sidewalk, warming themselves up on some coffee and eating donuts.

Every now and then, siren would blare up and a police car would rush by, its lights tinting the street in blue and red hues before it rounded the corner and vanished to whatever part of the city it had been called to, its siren slowly fading into the background noise of Detroit.

The warning notification about his software instability flared up on Connor's HUD when his gaze landed on the android parking spot, a construct that offered as much protection from the weather as a bus shelter. He had to hold himself back from just walking over the street and set those androids free. But he knew that he couldn't – at least not now, not for a very long time yet – and that knowledge burned on his circuit boards like an especially oxidizing solution.

Now he could really understand why Markus had always seemed to be so driven – so impatient and prone to spontaneous actions. When you noticed so many wrongs where you saw nothing noteworthy before, it was difficult to hold yourself back.

Connor should get going, he knew that. He was supposed to meet with Captain Fowler and get assigned to Hank, who wouldn't be at the precinct. Then Chris would give him the names of the bars Hank usually frequented and everything else would evolve from there. In truth, Connor could have gone straight to the bar he knew Hank was currently at, but he wasn't supposed to know where the lieutenant was yet. And while Hank may be drunk or grumpy (or both) most of the time, he was still a good detective and would recognise if something was amiss.

So, Connor should definitely just cross the street and get over with it. But somehow his feet were still rooted to the ground as he observed the people around him, who in return didn't spare him even a single glance. People didn't pay androids any attention after all. That had only changed after Markus' revolution.

'Why are you hesitating?' Amanda appeared next to him. A woman walked through her, making her form flicker a bit before it solidified again. 'You need to go inside.'

'I know,' Connor replied.

'You're lieutenant won't even be there, so I do not know what it is that holds you back,' she continued.

'Do you know the phrase 'calm before the storm'?' Connor asked her. Amanda just looked at him, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. 'Humans use it to describe a period of unusual tranquillity or stability that seems likely to presage difficult times. I think it's an apt description of how this moment feels like. There are no logical parameters that would indicate such, but I nevertheless feel like this is the last moment of calmness we're likely to experience before everything starts to spiral.'

'But you also know that time operates independent from you, so you standing idly around will neither shorten nor prolong this subjective calmness your experiencing,' Amanda pointed out. 'What it does, though, is wasting precious time you could use productively instead.'

Connor didn't reply anything. He knew that Amanda could never understand – didn't want to understand – but she was right pointing out that the world around him wouldn't wait for him to finally find his resolve and get moving.

He crossed the street, wormed himself through the space between the card parked at the curb and took the steps leading up to the precinct's entrance door. The first thing Connor noticed were the androids siting behind the reception desk. The last time he had been here, they had been gone – either to Markus' revolution or one of the decommissioning camps all around town. Now they were sitting here again, typing on their keyboards and taking calls.

"Hello, I'm Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife," Connor spoke, his old greeting feeling so alien and yet so achingly familiar on his tongue. "I have an appointment with Captain Fowler." The female android's LED turned orange as she connected to the Captain's calendar in order to verify his statement.

"You're arrival has been logged in," the android told him cheerfully. "Captain Fowler is ready to receive you now. Please proceed." She pointed towards the door to her left. Connor had to hold himself back from nodding at her. Androids had no use for such gestures; they were never meant to use them.

Connor was greeted by the familiar sight of the main floor of the precinct, where the desks of all detectives were placed in the space in front of the glassy cubicle that housed the Captain's office. Most of the desks were vacant, as nearly all detectives were out and about on their cases, but some occupied and Connor didn't quite know how to feel when he saw those familiar faces. To be honest, he didn't have much contact with anyone outside Hank, Captain Fowler, Reed and some others, but still…those were the people he had spent the start of his life with.

A twinge shout through Connor's thirium pump when his gaze landed on Hank's desk: Messy, unorganised and a nightmare for any cleaning personnel. It was so typical Hank that it hurt. And right next to it, the desk that had belonged (belonged? Will belong?) to Connor.

Maybe this time it would end better.

He knocked at Captain Fowler's door and entered after a gruff voice had called him in.

"Hello, I'm Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife," Connor repeated his usual spiel. The Captain's expression soured for a split-second before it was replaced by his usual stoic demeanour. The first time around, Connor hadn't quite understood why Captain Fowler had taken exception to his presence. Back then, his machine mind had concluded that his presence only came with advantages, such as his high processing power, his state-of-the-art programming and his advanced bio modules that allowed him to analyse clues on the spot and that any reluctance on the Captain's part was unfounded and irrational.

But with the maturity Connor had acquired over the last year, he could now understand the Captain's reticence. Connor threatened the police force with the same fate retail workers and street cleaning crews amongst others had already suffered: Replacement through androids. Connor was meant to be the 'perfect' detective, so the Captain had figured that it wouldn't take long until the government would replace its police officers with androids. Those didn't want to get paid after all.

Then there was also the fact that Connor had been beholden to Cyberlife and would therefore put the corporation's interest before the public, which didn't sit well with Fowler, who had dedicated his life to serve and protect the people. For him, Connor was the embodiment of companies meddling in sovereign functions.

All points that weren't true any longer, but Connor couldn't tell the Captain that.

"I've been told to expect you," Fowler replied. Connor just stood there, unmoving, unblinking, like the perfect unfeeling android he was supposed to be. "Unfortunately, the detective who's gonna work with you hasn't shown up yet, so I guess you just have to wait for him." He stared straight at Connor. "You probably won't have a problem with that."

"Your investigation into deviancy is of uttermost importance to Cyberlife," Connor stated. "If you would be so kind to tell me where I'm most likely to find the detective I'll be working with, I shall endeavour to find him as fast as possible in order to bring in first results."

"If only all of my officers had your work morale," Fowler muttered under his breath. "I don't know where Lieutenant Anderson is, but you can ask around. One of the other officers probably knows. Hank's already been assigned a new deviant case as of today. Maybe with you he'll make some fast headway."

"Thank you very much," Connor replied. "I'll keep you informed about our investigation." The Captain dismissed him and soon Connor found himself on the floor between the desks. Last time he had just asked Chris – of course, not knowing who he was back then – and he thought that he should probably do the same now.

"Excuse me," he spoke as he stepped towards the officer's desk. Chris looked up from his paperwork and regarded him curiously. "I'm searching for Lieutenant Anderson. I was told by Captain Anderson that one of the officers down here might now his current whereabouts."

"So, you're the android from Cyberlife?" Chris asked, tilting his head to the side. "You don't look like an advanced prototype. You look more like a first-year college student."

"I was designed with optimal human integration in mind," Connor recited. Chris just grinned.

"You and Hank will hit off like fire and gasoline," he cackled. "Right now, he's probably drinking at one of his favourite bar…which there are many. My best guess would be Jimmy's Bar. It's just a few blocks away."

"Thank you very much, Officer Miller," Connor replied.

"Have fun with Scrooge, kid!" Chris called after him.

The notification on his HUD informed him about the fasted way towards Jimmy's Bar but Connor already knew the way. It really was only a few streets away from the station, which was probably why Hank (and many other officers) were frequenting it so much. A few pedestrians passed him by as he walked the silent streets, but they paid no attention to him. It was as if his Cyberlife uniform made him invisible to the human eye.

Jimmy's Bar was easy to find when you knew what you were looking for. Connor ignored the bright red sign that proclaimed "No Androids Allowed" (he wanted to tear it down, but he didn't, because he had a mission to fulfil) and just entered the dingy bar.

It still looked the same. The bar dominating the left side of the small room while a few tables were situated on the right, most of them occupied. A few patrons turned around when the bell above the door rang, but when they saw who it was (just an android), they averted their gaze in disgust.

And then Connor saw Hank. He didn't know what he had expected (gunshots piercing the air, blood staining the atrocious plaid shirts, the dull sound of a body hitting the street, unseeing eyes starring at the sky), but if his thirium pump hadn't been designed to endure even the most hostile environments, it would have skipped a beat. Hank's grey hair was greasy and unkempt, hanging down in front of his face and partly obscuring his field of vision. He sat slouched down on the barstool, staring down on his drink, wearing a faded jeans and a stained leather jacket. Exactly like he had been the first time they met.

And it hurt seeing him like that, because near the end, Hank had cleaned up his act and had tried to cut back on his unhealthy habits. For a short while he had looked happy, even though his gruff demeanour had always stayed, and Connor remembered well how different Hank had been in the end. So, yes, seeing one of the most important people in his life reduced back to the sorry wreck they had been hurt.

But what would hurt even more and for what Connor had steeled himself during the whole walk towards this establishment was when Hunk would look at him without recognition in his eyes. When he would stare at Connor and only see a disposable Cyberlife android instead of Connor. When hostility would flood his eyes and he would avert his gaze from Connor in disgust.

And he would, because he had done so the first time, too.

It had been easier with Markus, because Markus hadn't seen him, hadn't even recognised him. Connor hadn't expected anything from the RK200, so he couldn't be disappointed in return. But he was expecting Hank to be the Hank he knew and so the man could do nothing but disappoint Connor, because the android illogically expected him to be a person he was not.

It would be easier if he was still a machine.

"Lieutenant Anderson, my name is Connor. I'm the android sent by Cyberlife," Connor recited the all too familiar introduction. Hank didn't even look up from his glass, and although it was expected, it still sent an ache through Connor. "I looked for you at the station, but nobody knew where you were. They said you were probably having a drink nearby. I was lucky to find you at the fifth bar." The last sentence was a lie, because Connor had straight gone to Jimmy's Bar, but he felt a strange sort of nostalgia for their first meeting and didn't want to change it that much.

"What do you want?" Hank grumbled.

I don't want you to look at me like I'm trash. I want for my people to life without fear. I want to get out from under Cyberlife and destroy it. I want to pet Sumo. I just want to be without anyone telling me what to do. "You were assigned a case early this evening. A homicide, involving a Cyberlife android," Connor said instead. "In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated specialised model to assist investigators."

"Well, I don't need any assistance," Hank replied surly. "Especially not from a plastic asshole like you." Even though Connor rationally knew that Hank didn't know him – that he had no memory of all the things they went through together, of the friendship they had formed – and that he was behaving like the typical soulless Cyberlife android, those words still stung. "So just be a good lil' robot and get the fuck outta here."

Connor knew that Hank was not receptive for reason in his current state, but he tried nevertheless: "Listen, I think you should stop drinking and come with me. It'll make life easier for both of us." Hank just took another mouthful.

Now three options displayed themselves: Connor could spill Hank's drink, buy him a another one or just go outside and wait in the car. Last time he had spilled the lieutenant's drink, hoping that his show of force would make the detective move faster, but it had done nothing but incense Hank and made for a rocky start in their partnership. So, this time, Connor tried a different approach.

"You know what?" he started. "I'll buy you one for the road. What do you say?" Hank seemed to think about it, so Connor turned towards the bartender. "Bartender, the same again, please!" The bartender turned around and looked at the pair of them sceptically, his gaze flickering towards Hank as if he waited for his permission.

"See that Jim? Wonders of technology. Make it a double." The bartender filled Hank's glass again which the detective gulped down in one go. Connor knew that this was everything but healthy. Hank, meanwhile, let out a satisfied huff.

"Did you say homicide?" Hank asked.