Chapter 2/20: To Meet One's Match
"Good morning, sunshine." - Tina Chen
...in which our two leads meet.
GAVIN
~ NOV 9TH, 2038 * AM 07:55 ~
About to pull through Capitol Park on his way to the police station, Gavin frowned at the scene through his windshield. Camera flashes went off and police drones scanned the area. The crowd surrounding the center - reporters at every angle - left little room to see what was going on. The snowfall didn't help. Crowded as it may be, he didn't fail to spot the construct above their heads, holographic tags transforming one of the statues into what resembled an android. Not only that, but there was a huge logo he'd never before seen covering the wall.
Gavin glimpsed the police tape for only a moment before it disappeared behind one of the pedestrians. The road was blocked off, but he knew the officers and thus didn't even need to flash his badge to get through. He couldn't say that he was too keen on getting out of his black 1964 Chevy Impala and into the snow, so he let the cops already there handle it. It wasn't his case.
Not before long, he parked outside the Detroit City Police Department.
Turning off the ignition, it went silent. He grabbed his keys and stepped out, shivering as the cold November air hit him. He hated winter. Being known to get cold easily, Detroit at this time of year was a nuisance.
Gavin slammed the car door shut, pulled up the collar of his leather jacket, and was thankful for the short walk to the door.
He usually took the shifts from 12 to 8 a.m., but he sometimes needed to step in for another coworker like any other officer. People at first glance believed him to be the slacking off type although that couldn't be farther from the truth. If he was to use one word to describe himself, it would be ambitious. He wouldn't stop at anything to get where he wanted to be even if it meant stepping on his coworkers' toes. Pleasantries were a waste of time and he couldn't care less what people thought of him.
Once he got inside, Gavin made a beeline for the break room in order to get some more coffee into his system. He didn't fail to glimpse Tina in his peripheral vision and prepared for the worst.
"Good morning, sunshine."
Stepping up to the coffee machine, Gavin flipped his coworker off. She grinned.
"Heard you were on patrol last night," he said, driving his fist into the button refilling his third cup of the day. "Passed through Capitol Park to see it covered in police tape. Any chance you could fill me in?"
"Make yourself comfortable," she replied as he grabbed his coffee. "Saw the carnage?"
Gavin sniffed. "Nope. Every journalist in the world blocked my view."
"The news'll tell you the same, but turns out that a group of androids raided CyberLife stores all over the city at 2 a.m.," she replied, Gavin crinkling his nose and taking a sip. "They broke store windows to free displayed androids, tagged the entire area with 'obscure' slogans and what they apparently consider the logo of the revolution. Even hacked the alarm system and disabled a police drone."
"Fucking hell, I knew those tin cans would get outta hand. One look at this Kamski douche and the writing was on the wall."
"Preach. From what I hear, guy's a sociopath," she said, Gavin nodding in agreement. "I was in the area with Robert when it happened. Chris arrived at the scene to gun down the fleeing androids, but got overpowered and was held at gunpoint by their 'leader'."
Unable to help himself, a hint of unease crept up. "I take it you guys arrived before he pulled the trigger."
"We didn't, actually. That's the strange part... they let him go."
"The androids?" he asked, unable to believe it.
"Yup. The news was all over it once it surfaced. They're still reporting," she replied. He almost expected a 'sike,' but Tina wasn't one to joke about the death of a coworker. Especially not Chris. Everyone at the DPD liked him and that was no secret. "Seriously, though. You look like shit. Did your insomniac ass even get any sleep?"
"I got enough."
"Considering that you resemble a dead man walking, I ain't convinced."
"Fuck off."
"Connor, right?" she asked, Gavin's eyes closing as he tipped his head back. "He's not that bad, Gav."
"'Not that bad'?" he repeated, looking at her in disbelief. "Fucking hell, he's like a walking social relations program. The doormat on legs doesn't take a hint, either. In a week or two, I'll be unemployed because of that plastic prick. This job's all I have."
"Well, I'm still here. They haven't replaced me yet," she replied, making a valid point. Gavin didn't admit it. "Connor's sweet. Give him a chance."
"I'm not becoming buddy-buddy with a toaster, Ti."
"You might have to..." she murmured, smirking behind her cup.
"Meaning?"
"Nothing," she replied coyly, but Gavin was too tired to push further. "By the way - completely unrelated - but the captain wanted to see you. Told me to pass the word along. Something about introducing you to your new partner until Chris comes back from his temporary leave."
Gavin blinked. "Okay, why? I've been on my own for three years."
"Better get moving and find out. I'd hurry, though. We both know Fowler doesn't like to be kept waiting."
Another non-answer.
"Ever told you I fucking hate you?"
"Ditto, asshole," she replied with a wink, raising her coffee in toast. "Don't worry, Gav. You'll love him."
Letting out a scoff, Gavin headed out of the break room to get it over with. He let his gaze wander to see Captain Jeffrey Fowler with his nose deep in his terminal, looking as pissed as ever. One of the things he'd never understand about Fowler was why in the living hell he'd have an office in the middle of the precinct with most of the walls made of glass. You could look straight in.
He considered simply pretending he didn't get the message and dip around the corner not to get spotted, but the fact that he wanted to keep his job had him pause. Putting down the coffee on his desk, he made his way to the captain's office and pushed up the door.
"You wanted to see me?" he asked, closing it after him.
"I did. As I'm sure you've heard by now, Chris was present in the aftermath of that CyberLife store raid. Shit's all over the news," Fowler said, not even sparing him a glance as Gavin plopped down into the chair opposite him and crossed his arms. "I've ordered him to take some time off with his family to clear his head. Last night could've been ugly. Nevertheless, these android cases are stacking up and Hank won't be able to handle this crap alone. I need every detective on the field and you're one of the best we've got. CyberLife assigned us another android to act as your partner."
"...and here I thought you didn't have a sense of humor," Gavin replied with a smirk.
Fowler looked up from his screen and just glared at him for what felt like an eternity. Under the scrutiny, his own amused smile shortly fell. Unease emerged. Fowler eventually clasped his hands together at the desk whilst holding his gaze.
"You think I'm bullshitting, kid?"
It went from zero to a hundred real fast.
"For fuck's sake, you can't be serious!" he snapped, nearly tipping his chair as he rose. "I'm not working with a glorified fucking toaster!"
"Reed, the last thing I need right now is your attitude. I've still got a headache from Hank's outburst back when Connor was new to the precinct and I don't need you giving me a migraine!"
"Literally every other cop in this precinct is less likely to have a fucking aneurysm!" he said, parting his arms.
"...and yet 'every other cop' wouldn't benefit to the same extent," Fowler argued, before explaining why. "The android is CyberLife's newest and most advanced model. It specializes in combat. We've been instructed to take it for a test drive to make sure it's ready for deployment, and seeing that you can't keep your fucking mouth shut, it'll be able to put those abilities to use. The DPD is gonna go bankrupt covering your medical expenses from throwing hands everywhere, so here's my solution. This isn't up for debate!"
Taking a deep breath, Gavin just glared. Fowler wouldn't have it.
"Phck!" he cursed, setting course for the door. Nostrils flaring, he didn't get far. When the android entered was anyone's guess and Gavin nearly collided. "Fucking hell, Connor! Sneak up on me again and I'll have you scrapped for parts!"
Instead of tilting his head with a hurt puppy look like Connor usually did, he simply frowned.
"Charming," he deadpanned, his voice entirely new. Darker.
It wasn't until then that Gavin noticed the differences - smaller because of the squinting, icy grey eyes, not brown. His cheekbones weren't as sharp, either, his lips now a tad bit fuller and sporting a stronger jaw. He could've sworn he'd gotten two inches taller and his build was most definitely more powerful. Having regarded the figure from top to bottom, he took a double-take, his eyes falling to the new black and white plastic jacket to see a different number. RK900.
Not to mention the damn turtleneck and arrogance that practically oozed as he kept his chin raised and peered down at him. He supposed CyberLife finally took the hint that Connor 'I like dogs' RK800 wasn't even remotely intimidating and made some changes.
"What the fuck is this? They sent you back to the Ken-doll fabric and give you an upgrade?"
"I see you're confused, Detective Reed. This Connor you speak of is currently working a case with Lieutenant Hank Anderson."
Even worse.
"Oh! Oh, great," he said, sarcasm clear. Gavin gestured to the tall figure as he looked at Fowler with an accusatory glare. "So now we've got two plastic detectives waltzing around the precinct."
RK900 took the word. "I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, but my programming defects lying to my coworkers."
"The fuck did you just say to me?"
"That's enough!" Fowler demanded, Gavin having gotten right into the android's face. "You've got two months for the evaluation. Until then, I'm gonna need your report on its performance, situational awareness, processing power, all that crap. The State Department wants nothing but the best and I'll be damned if I'm putting a malfunctioning machine with the fucking military. I'll file over the details."
Gavin just got a Vietnam flashback to the news broadcast four days ago. 200,000 combat units. Of this kind.
"I do just fine on my own," he replied, shooting Fowler a glare over his shoulder.
"...and now you'll do even better! Now stop bitching, do your job and get the hell outta my office!"
With that, Gavin moved his gaze back to the android. There was no response. He cursed and pushed past him. Fowler was a hardass and he knew arguing wouldn't get him anywhere. He never liked Gavin, and quite frankly, the feeling was mutual. He was still his boss. Gavin's hatred for the tin cans was a known fact to everyone in the police department and yet he had the nerve to partner him up with one.
Just as he stood in the center of the precinct with his eyes scouting the office for Tina, the office door behind flew open again. He didn't bother to turn as he already registered the android approaching him. Tina, however, had peaced out.
She was probably laughing all the way to her second shift.
"I've already scanned your cases and know the best place to start. A homicide reported three days ago. I suggest we -"
Gavin let out a scoff. "Yeah, okay. Okay," he said, feigning to have let his guard down as he turned before getting right into the android's face again. "Listen up, dipshit. If you wanna make it to the end of the day, the last thing you wanna do is order me around. I have no fucking choice in the matter, so here's how things are gonna play out... First, you don't get to make any 'suggestions' unless I ask for it. Second, you do what I say when I say. Just a hint of disobedience and I'll put a bullet between your eyes. You got that?"
"Noted. As long as it doesn't interfere with the mission or is unrelated to it, I'll help feed your pathetically fragile ego."
It took everything out of him not to deck the android right there. Nevertheless, Fowler was only about twenty feet away and he didn't need another disciplinary warning. He knew Fowler only kept him around because his dedication to the DPD was unparalleled. Said disciplinary folder was nearly as big as Hank Anderson's at this stage and Gavin didn't have the captain's long-standing friendship to get away with it.
One of the many reasons why he despised Hank.
Guy got away with everything despite being a useless, alcoholic asshole - putting his coworkers in danger because of it - who contributed little to nothing to the force these days. He had his reasons, but that shouldn't give him the all-clear. Something he certainly had.
Meanwhile, Gavin destroying Plastic Prick 2.0 would most certainly force him to say goodbye to law enforcement for good.
"Good," Gavin said instead, before giving him a quick once-over. He grabbed his coffee and headed for the door. "Fucking tin can..."
Infuriatingly un-fazed, the android followed.
This was going to be a long day.
NINES
~ NOV 9TH, 2038 * AM 09:02 ~
"Jesus, put that thing away before you stab my fucking eye out."
Just as Gavin had issued his demand, RK900 halted the movements of his butterfly knife.
"I'd advise against it. Doing something that requires precision is a way for RK units to calibrate and hone our reflexes. It considerably heightens our chance of success in an upcoming mission. You might've seen Connor with its coin tricks."
"Oh," he exclaimed, his enthusiasm faked "...and you use a knife 'cause you're tough shit, that it?"
RK900 frowned. "No. It's simply more convenient. I don't carry a quarter with me at all times as I have no need for it."
...which he was well-aware insinuated he carried a knife with him at all times.
With a light glare, Gavin pushed up the car door.
RK900's new partner was far from pleasant by human terms, but as long as he didn't get in the way of his mission, it didn't matter. He was programmed to adapt to any situation and this was no different. Besides, he had made research on Gavin beforehand and the detective was dedicated to a fault. Gavin was competent - determined - and that was the only thing he could ask for. He required nothing else.
The last thing he needed was a human halting his progress.
Having arrived at the crime scene, RK900 sheathed his knife and registered that the house mentioned in the case file was more like a mansion. The family's wealth was undeniable. Police tape surrounded the area, officers standing guard by the main gate, holding pedestrians and reporters back.
It was nearly impossible to keep events like this under wraps as the population always got wind of it one way or another.
There was little to see out front, but further inspection would prove differently. RK900 scanned the area, registering the footprints of a young adult female and child of the same persuasion. Investigating the soil, he analyzed the weight of said footprints. They were both androids and it dated back three days as expected. Knowing that, however, it was clear that whomever those footsteps belonged to was either still there or had left the establishment a different way.
As they stepped into the backyard, he found one of the officers standing over the mangled body of the homeowner with a pad. RK900 scanned the cop's face and registered him as an Officer Wilson.
"Fuuuck, someone really had it in for him," Gavin said.
"Zlatko Andronikov," Wilson said, handing him a plastic glove that he pulled on. Gavin crouched before the body. "He served time in jail for a few years for embezzlement and fraud. A neighbor reported gunshots and voices coming from the backyard."
"This happened three days ago, right?"
"Sure did. By the looks of it, he was beaten to death. No one saw anything."
"Didn't give him a quick send-off, that's for sure. Doesn't take a genius to figure out he suffered," he said, studying the wounds. "Looks like they targeted internal organs. Lungs, heart... Unless the killer was a surgeon or some shit that knew exactly where to strike, this was the work of pissed off androids. It's way too fucking coordinated."
"Androids, huh? Can't say I'm surprised after all the reported incidents."
As they debriefed the situation, RK900 began to analyze the scene.
Aside from the lone corpse in the center, he could tell much by simply searching the environment. The soil was littered in fading footsteps, both big and small, and it would've been difficult to separate them hadn't he been the model he was. They all belonged to androids aside from Andronikov's size ten shoes. He narrowed his eyes at what resembled the footprints of a large predator. Judging by its shape, he registered it as a URS12 model, a polar bear designed to replicate the endangered species most commonly used in zoos.
The young adult female and child unit's footsteps led out of the backyard and confirmed that they were no longer there. It was interesting to see that a larger pair of footsteps had joined them. According to the size, it was a TR400 model.
RK900 genuflected next to a muddy shotgun and his suspicions were confirmed.
#
| ANALYZING... |
.
SHOTGUN
[FIREARM DATABASE | .729 GAUGE | REGISTERED TO ANDRONIKOV Z.]
* .729 Gauge
*2 bullets remaining
* Traces of Thirium
.
- FINGERPRINTS
* Database match: ANDRONIKOV, ZLATKO
* Criminal record: Embezzlement and fraud
.
- FINGERMARKS
ANDROID INVOLVEMENT
MATCH: AX400 MODEL
.
- FINGERMARKS
ANDROID INVOLVEMENT
MATCH: TR400 MODEL
#
When he crouched down next to his partner to analyze the victim, Gavin stared at him as if he'd insulted his ancestors.
"The fuck are you doing?"
"Your job, detective."
"Is that right?" he challenged, his voice a mix between the same faked enthusiasm and annoyance as he rose to his feet. "Well, go on. Tell me something I missed, Sherlock. Christ."
#
| ANALYZING... |
.
ANDRONIKOV, ZLATKO
[DECEASED]
* Height: 6ft - Weight: 198Ibs
* Estimated time of death: Nov 6th ~ 08:08 pm
#
As it turned out, one of the attacking androids had managed to puncture both the lungs and heart just as Gavin had assumed. RK900 swiped some of the dried blood upon his index and middle finger in order to analyze it.
"Fucking hell... at least try being a bit more subtle," Gavin demanded.
Moving his gaze sideways with a frown, he could see the disapproval on his partner's face before Gavin turned to Wilson and asked a couple more questions. It only then occurred to him that he probably expected him to analyze the blood as the RK800 did. He did, however, not need to. His sensors were in his fingertips - as the mouth-based analyzation was recorded to have a tendency to unnerve humans - and thus tweaks were made.
The analysis took a millisecond. RK900 rubbed his thumb, index and middle finger together before moving his attention back to the victim.
#
| ANALYZING... |
.
RED ICE
[C17 H21 NO4]
* Blood contains traces of Acetone, Lithium, Thirium Toluene, Hydrochloric acid
#
"Red ice."
"Something I would've figured out if you hadn't fucking interrupted me."
"I have no doubt, detective. I'm simply quicker. Someone in your position should be aware of how important productivity is," he replied, registering how Gavin took a step forward only to be held back by Wilson. "What you don't know is that I went through some of the cases assigned to other officers."
Gavin swatted away the hand holding him back "...and?"
"According to recent reports, there has been another incident where the victim had red ice in their possession. Carlos Ortiz - as I'm sure you remember being the owner of an android you interrogated a few days ago - was one of them. We both know red ice dealers use burners. Now that we know Andronikov is involved as well, the chance to stop the red ice epidemic is far greater. We could attempt three-dimensional particle tracking if we manage to locate enough burners that have been in contact with the same dealer. Our best bet would be with the homicide victims as they wouldn't've had the chance to discard of evidence."
The exasperated expression before him turned mildly impressed, softening just enough to be noticeable. It didn't last.
RK900 rose to his feet. "Has anyone searched the house?"
"Uh... no, not yet. We waited until you guys arrived," Wilson replied, searching the surrounding area. "Where's Hank?"
"Lieutenant Anderson is assigned to a different case. With Connor," he replied, Wilson opening his mouth only to close it again. "Think nothing of it, officer. You're not the first to confuse me with my predecessor."
Giving Gavin a discreet glance, he only glared back.
"Right. Got you."
Turning to the door, RK900 began to move his feet. He could hear Gavin sigh before joining him inside. There were obvious signs of struggle that he'd spotted on the way in. A shotgun blast had destroyed part of the railing, a lamp was knocked over and the backdoor had been forcefully opened, giving him enough to reconstruct the scene. He came to the conclusion that the victim had chased the two deviants of whom he saw the footprints of in the front yard.
The question, however, was why they were there in the first place.
Approaching a coat stand, there were two cloths hung up. RK900 gingerly pushed the fabric aside to find that there was dried blue blood in the bicep region and confirming that it was an android that had worn it.
#
| ANALYZING... |
.
DRIED BLUE BLOOD
* Model AX400 - Serial #579102694
* Android wounded
#
It matched the android with the YK500 unit in tow that had left the establishment the same day she arrived. At this point, the wound would've healed.
Upon further investigation - finding a high-tech device down in the basement - he'd painted a clearer picture. Deviants had been tricked into believing Zlatko could help them out of Detroit, captured, reset, and some modified while others were sold off. The AX400 had managed to escape by causing a short-circuit judging by the shattered whiskey bottle and liquid formed around its cables. There were also crates of the drug that told them he was a dealer. Among the house clutter, they'd found a crack pipe with traces of red ice.
With these homicides, red ice seemed to follow, and in locating said dealers they would be able to minimize deviancy.
Upstairs, a clink from further inside had Gavin immediately reach for his gun.
RK900 snapped attention, eyes narrowed as he directed his gaze to where it came from.
There was no heat signature confirming it to be an android. Only the more advanced models, YK500s', and those programmed for intimacy could control their temperature. RK900 used his implemented CyberLife tracker only to find that said android didn't appear on his scans and thus was a deviant. Nevertheless, the clatter told him everything he needed to know. The mere sound gave him enough data to determine exactly where the deviant was.
"Inner room. It's on the move," RK900 said.
Gavin took point. Not before long, the base of his foot connected with the door. Unsurprisingly, he was incapable of registering the chair that was sent flying his way once he'd stepped a few feet inside.
#
| PRECONSTRUCT... |
.
1. PROTECT GAVIN REED
WARNING! CHANCE OF SURVIVAL, 100% | INEFFICIENT APPROACH
.
PRECONSTRUCTION DENIED
.
BETTER ALTERNATIVE AVAILABLE
2. CHARGE DEVIANT
.
PREVIOUS ALTERNATIVES TERMINATED
.
- CHARGE DEVIANT
CONFIRM?
Y/N
#
Cursing as the chair hit him, Gavin retaliated.
The deviant - a male - followed up by launching into him. Impact caused Gavin to drop his firearm and RK900 charged. With a swift shoulder-barge, he sent the deviant across the room. A thud was sounded as he collided with a wooden table. Pulling out his knife, RK900 threw, pinning his hand to the surface. Blue blood splattered his palm. As RK900 calmly advanced, the deviant's hand curled around an antique vase atop the table and chucked it at him, RK900 gracefully dodging before it connected to the opposite wall in a crash. Ceramic littered the floor.
Its LED had been deactivated.
The deviant remained distracted as he made an attempt to tear himself free. Just as he did, RK900 had swiped his hand across the floor and grasped the gun. He directed it the deviant's way and brown eyes went wide.
"No, please! I don't want to die!"
An AP700 android. His stress levels were at 89 percent.
"You've assaulted a police officer. State your intention, deviant," RK900 demanded, Gavin just having caught up with him.
"Wh –? I... I was told he could help me."
"By whom?"
"A WR600... he said Zlatko could help me..."
"Did you kill him?"
"No! I just arrived!"
Although his LED had been removed, RK900 could tell he wasn't lying.
"Thank you for your cooperation."
In a millisecond, he fired - a clean shot between the deviant's eyes - his body dropping to the floor with a heavy thud. Gavin just stared with his mouth agape, awestruck looking down at the figure with a nearly offended look on his face.
RK900 flipped the gun and directed the handle his way. Only after hesitating briefly, Gavin tore it free from his grasp.
As he moved to grab the knife, Wilson appeared in the doorway.
"I'll call it in," he muttered.
There were quite possibly remnants of Zlatko's androids collecting test subjects out there. Machines had functioning trackers, being easy to locate, but deviants were a different issue. Neither had they found any documents or papers listing Zlatko's androids.
For now, there was nothing they could do about it.
After making one last scan and confirming they'd seen everything there was to see, RK900 trailed his partner out of the front yard. One of the reporters made an attempt at getting in Gavin's way, but the latter simply said, "No comment" when asked about the victim and pushed past. Pulling up the car door, Gavin plopped down in the driver seat. He started the ignition before RK900 even reached the vehicle.
Gavin had been noticeably on-edge since their encounter with the deviant. Quiet. Perhaps even intimidated. RK900 couldn't tell why that would be the case, however. He'd merely accomplished a task assigned to him and he saw no reason for him to react in such a way. Obviously, the detective didn't care for androids, and thus it made even less sense. He could see no logical explanation. Perhaps it was the efficiency. Perhaps it was the brutality. He couldn't tell with the current data and had to require more on the subject for a better analysis.
The former appeared to be a more plausible reason. Then again, it was an android, and thus the execution shouldn't've mattered.
At the moment he entered the car, Gavin pulled onto the road. If RK900 was human, he'd probably hit his head in the dashboard at the abrupt reverse, but that wasn't the case. For all he knew, that was exactly what Gavin had attempted to do.
RK900 simply crossed his arms and gave him an unimpressed look.
Gavin quickly took note of the eyes on him. "You've gotta be one shitty model for not realizing your neon disco lights are broken."
#
| SCANNING... |
.
1%
MIND PALACE = FUNCTIONAL
PROCESSING LED = NO SIGN OF SOFTWARE INSTABILITY
100%
.
NO ERROR(S) FOUND
#
"My systems are fully operational."
"Oh yeah?" he challenged unconvinced, briefly meeting his eye. "Pretty sure that thing is a permanent blue, tin can."
"Our processing LEDs react to our overall condition. I am not damaged."
"All right, smartass. Your 'fully operational systems' care to explain how I've seen plenty of androids in perfect condition with either yellow or red?"
"For androids, stable lights indicate a stable level of activity. Flickering indicates either processing or unbalanced activity. Certain models - such as the RK800 and RK900 - are capable of changing its LED color by will and is quite useful for interrogation. As an example, an RT600 would be incapable of lying without its LED giving it away. In deviants, it indicates simulated emotional state. I am no deviant."
"Christ, I didn't ask for a novel."
"You have my sincerest apology, detective," he expressed his sarcasm. "I suppose I shouldn't have expected that your limited human brain was capable of comprehending anything I just said -"
Abruptly, the car pulled over.
Although he easily could've prevented it, he allowed Gavin one moment of power when he grabbed the side of his collar and yanked him in.
A slight rip was heard.
"I've been patient," Gavin warned, RK900 squinting disapprovingly as his eyes landed on the turtleneck tear before meeting his glare. "Fowler isn't here to save your plastic ass this time. Watch your fucking mouth or I'll send you to the junkyard."
The fact that he actually believed he'd be capable of overpowering him was, quite frankly, ridiculous. He seemed to have a death wish.
Or maybe it was a simple intimidation tactic.
At this stage, either was plausible.
"Considering that my predecessor is worth a small fortune, you can only imagine how many weeks wagers destroying me would put you back... but by all means," he deadpanned, arms yet crossed. "CyberLife will simply send another unit and we'll be exactly where we left off. The only difference will be the inconvenience of a bank account, detective. In my case, a new turtleneck, so I can only gain from this."
Gavin pressed his lips together, his one-handed grip tightening around the wheel as he looked ready to explode. Eyes darted as if unable to remain eye contact before they briefly fell.
He almost seemed conflicted by the close proximity between them.
Realizing he wasn't getting a reaction, it only appeared to piss him off further.
"Phck!" he cursed, hand returning to the wheel.
Directing his eyes back on the road, Gavin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. RK900 simply straightened his collar. He couldn't do anything about the damage in the fabric, but he couldn't say he cared.
After all, he was incapable of emotion.
RK900 wasn't like any other android as he never had the deviancy code programmed into his unit. He'd merely gotten a debriefing on emotions in general and knew what appropriate emotions to simulate thanks to his social functions. Nothing fazed him.
It wasn't long before Gavin got the car moving again, turning on the radio to cancel out any form of conversation.
Suited him just fine.
A/N: Yes, Gav's car is of the same series as the one in Supernatural. The one on the show is a Chevy Impala 1967 while Gav's is a Chevy Impala 1964. It's part of his 'bad boy' aesthetic, lol.
