His sensors could hear the glass shattering only a few rooms away. They picked up the panicked screaming of 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 couldn't stand the thought of just vanishing without giving Hank a final farewell. So he had come here, hoping to see the older man, only to find 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 drawled. "They're the ones responsible for all of this bullshit. We should just trash every one of those 'droids we see."

"That's an order," the first voice reprimanded. "Now, sweep out and find it!" Connor could hear their combat boots 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 a 14% chance that Connor would be able to incapacitate both of them before they could alert the rest of their team.

[ ] Hold Your Ground

[ ] Hide In Office

His optical units were highlighting the three doors on his right side. Connor chose the office in the middle, despite there being no advantage to one room or another. The chance of being detected was a steady 67%. He slipped into the room, opening the door just a hair and closing it behind himself. He muffled the grind of the door handle with his hand.

Immediately, Connor scanned the room: A filing cabinet, a desk with a computer on it, and a map of Detroit on the wall to his left. 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 to hear the door creak open.

Someone entered the room, but the sound of their shoes on the ground didn't match the profile of the government issued combat boots the FBI agents were wearing. Connor's sensors allowed him 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 pant 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 staring down at Connor, his expression frozen in a mixture of disbelief and anger. Before the detective 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. Must have come through here," one agent spoke to Reed. "Have you seen it?" Connor knew that he was done for now.

Probability of being discovered: 99.9%

Reed's gaze flickered towards Connor. The movement was so miniscule, so quick that Connor hardly saw it. He knew that the agents chasing him wouldn't be able to catch the shift. Still, that didn't stop the tightening in his chest. His thirium pump hummed, louder and louder in his own ears.

There was nothing he could do. All of his state-of-the-art bio-parts and his tremendous processing power, and all Connor could do was cower under a table and wait for Reed to point him out to the FBI agents, one lone android, to his fellow humans. It wouldn't even be a betrayal. After all, what was one faulty piece of machinery compared to the livelihood of the human race?

"Nah, haven't seen it," Reed replied, feigning nonchalance. "Maybe try checking out the back entrance." The FBI agents turned on their heels and stormed out of the room, intent on catching Connor. The android, meanwhile, stared at the detective who, until now, he'd thought hated him with a burning passion.

"Leave," Reed's voice was low. 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 ways and bad.

"Don't!" Reed snapped. He inhaled, composing himself before regaining eye contact with Connor. "Just... get the fuck outta here." Connor turned around and walked towards the door.

"I didn't do it for you," Reed called after him as Connor passed the threshold. "I'm gonna be the one to take you in, not some FBI pricks from DC. Next time I won't be on your side." Connor just nodded. Of course Gavin's pride wouldn't let anyone else take him down. Then he turned right and ran.

The next time they'd 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 stalled for a split second, remembering 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 hesitate again when it came to humans.

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 snacking on donuts.

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

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^

The warning notification flared up on Connor's HUD as his gaze stuttered over the android parking spot, a construct that offered as much protection from the weather as a bus shelter. He clenched his jaw. He had to hold himself back from walking over and setting the 'sheltered' androids free. Not yet — he couldn't, not for a while, 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 action. 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. Not 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's revolution.

'Why are you hesitating?' Amanda appeared next to him. A woman walked through her, the hologram's form disintegrating a bit before flickering back into existence. 'You need to go inside.'

'I know,' Connor replied.

'You've done this before, Connor. What is it that's holding you back?' It wasn't a question, unspoken urgency lacing her voice. She continued, "Your lieutenant won't even be there, if that's what you're worried about" The sneer was ever-present in her voice.

'Do you know the phrase 'calm before the storm'?' Connor asked her. Amanda just levelled her eyes, narrowing in annoyance, at him. '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. There are no logical parameters that would indicate as such, but I nevertheless feel...' Connor tilted his head. '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 independently from you, so you standing idly around is not going to help' Amanda pointed out. 'What it does is waste precious time you could be using productively.'

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

He crossed the street, wormed himself through the space between the cars parked at the curb and took the steps leading up to the precinct's entrance. The first thing Connor noticed were the androids sitting 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 spun yellow as she connected to the captain's calendar in order to verify his statement.

"Your arrival has been logged," the android told him cheerfully. "Captain Fowler is ready to receive you now. Please proceed." She pointed towards the door to her right. Connor had to refrain 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. Some were 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 shot 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 of 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, or need, 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's safety. Of course it wouldn't sit well with Fowler; he'd dedicated his life to serving and protecting the people. For him, Connor was the embodiment of companies meddling in sovereign functions.

All things 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."

"The investigation into deviancy is of utmost importance to Cyberlife," Connor stated. "I'd appreciate it if you could tell me where I could find the lieutenant I'll be working with; it'll be quicker to get results the sooner we start."

"If only all of my officers had your work ethic," Fowler muttered under his breath. "I don't know where Lieutenant Anderson is. Try asking around, one of the other officers probably knows. As you know, Hank's already been assigned a new deviant case as of today, a homicide. Maybe with you around to kick his ass into gear, he'll actually turn up to the crime scene this time."

"Thank you very much," Connor replied. "I'll keep you informed about our investigation." The captain huffed, his eyes back on his monitor. An unspoken dismissal.

"And close the door on your way out!"

Just like that, Connor found himself back in the bullpen. Last time, he had just asked Chris — of course not knowing who he was back then — it was logical to 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 Fowler that one of the officers down here might know 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 it off like fire and gasoline," he cackled. He paused to think. "Right now...? he's probably drinking at one of his favourite bars… of which there are many. My best guess would be either Josie's, the local brewery, Jimmy's bar, someplace like that. He's never more than a few blocks away. Just warning you though, he's not exactly fond of androids."

"Thank you, Officer Miller," Connor replied.

"Your funeral, kid!" Chris called after him.

The notification on his HUD informed him about the fastest route to peruse each potential establishment Hank could be holed up in, but Connor already knew where he was, already knew the way. It really was only a few streets away from the station, which was probably why Hank (and many other officers) frequented it so much. A few pedestrians passed him by as he walked the quietly humming 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. He didn't. He had a mission to fulfil) and entered the dingy bar.

It still looked the same. The bar dominated the left side of the small room while a few tables were situated to the right, most of them occupied. A few patrons turned around when the bell above the door rang, but when they saw 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 zebra-print shirt, the dull sound of a body hitting the street, unseeing, glassy eyes reflecting the sky), but if his thirium pump hadn't been designed to endure even the most hostile of 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 into his drink, sporting 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 Hank would look at him without recognition in his eyes. When he would glare at Connor and only see a disposable Cyberlife android instead of... Connor. When hostility would flood his eyes and he'd avert his gaze from Connor in disgust.

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

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 surlily. "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 to reason in his current state, but he tried nonetheless: "Listen, I think you should stop drinking and come with me. It'll make life easier for both of us." Hank just took another sip.

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 make 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 consider it, so Connor turned towards the man behind the counter. "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 anything but healthy. Hank, meanwhile, let out a satisfied huff.

"Did you say homicide?" Hank asked.