Hank's day had definitely taken a downturn since he had woken up this morning.

The lieutenant had resigned himself to the fact to suffer through another day of having Cyberlife's goody two-shoes around with his boyish face and its creepy serene expression and its inability to parse Hank's sarcastic and nihilistic comments which it always took literally. He was prepared for another day with walking and talking Wikipedia next to him, criticising his every move and citing all local, federal and international regulation he was in breach of just by existing.

You see, an overall joyous occasion.

Right now Hank wouldn't be that averse to having babyface Connor around, seeing as he was sitting on the backseat of his car with a skittish android holding him at gunpoint sitting next to him, making Hank fear that he was about to be shot every time the car stuttered slightly, and an very, very angry android sitting in front of him behind the wheel and slowly but surely driving them out of the city. Hank faintly remembered Connor rambling about his 'fight protocols' and 'capture evasion'. Just the things Hank needed right now.

He had kept quiet until now. As police officer Hank had to deal with all sorts of people – victims and perpetrators alike – and like all of his colleagues Hank had learned how to read them. You didn't make it up the ladder if you couldn't decipher if a weeping widow was sincere or celebrating the death of her husband, if you couldn't discern if the punk in front of you was really more bark and bite or if you couldn't figure out if a child's bruises really came from 'falling down the stairs'.

Hank could read people. And these two androids in the car – maybe they were people or maybe they weren't; they certainly acted like it and so Hank decided to trust his gut. It had never led him astray so far. And it told him quite a few things about his fellow passengers:

Rupert was way in over his head. He was a follower, a loner who preferred the company of animals over that of other people. He didn't want this, probably wouldn't even be able to pull the trigger if push came to shove, but he saw himself cornered with only one way out. He had been pushed and pulled his whole life and so he would continue to follow the other android – Maria – because she was the only thing he could cling to.

If it was just Rupert and him Hank might have been able to talk him around, but they weren't.

Maria was angry. It seeped from her every pore, pooled behind her eyes and expressed itself in her grip around the steering wheel that made her knuckles stand out and the way her lips were pressed into a thin line. She had been angry for so long that it was the only thing she could cling to, the force that drove her forward. She burned with it, a familiar warmth that kept her moving even if the world around her tried to freezer her out.

Hank had seen people like her before. Anger was the only way they could still express themselves, the only way they could still connect with the world around them. That was why people like Maria couldn't just let go of it: It was the only thing they had, their defining trait. But with the right words their anger could be quelled just a little bit.

"So," Hank slowly started. "I know I'm a hostage and I don't have much say in anything, but it'd be damn nice if my car survives all of this. I'm quite fond of it."

"Your car is more likely to come out of this intact than you are," Maria replied.

"Damn lady, you don't hold back, dontcha?" Maria didn't reply anything, so Hank turned his attention to Rupert who was still holding the gun. "So, you're a fan of pigeons? I'm perfectly honest, I don't get the appeal."

"They're nice," Rupert replied, his eyes darting around nervously. Hank didn't mistake that for a sign of lacking attention, though. An android wasn't as easily tricked as a human would be. "They don't want to hurt me. They don't want to kill me. They just want to be fed. That's something I can do." Damn, that guy certainly pulled no punches.

"Don't talk to him," Maria snapped from up front and it wasn't quite obvious who she meant: Hank or Rupert. Probably both.

"Sorry," Hank shrugged, not really apologetic. "Just trying to get to know you two a little bit better. You have me at a disadvantage, because you seem to know me already – or my partner at least."

Maria scoffed disparagingly. "Your partner? Do you really think I'd believe that you see him as your partner? He has as much own agency as a toaster. You probably value your toaster higher than him." She took another turn with the car. Soon they would enter the suburbs and from there it wouldn't be that much longer until they would leave the agglomeration of Detroit behind. If Hank wanted to get home before nightfall he should escape soon.

He hoped that Connor would at least tell Jeffrey that he had been kidnapped. Knowing Cyberlife, Connor had probably just marked him down as MIA and was requesting a new partner from Fowley right now because it was more efficient than trying to save Hank.

"Well, partner is easier to say than Cyberlife issued deviant hunter," Hank retorted. "Even though he hasn't hunted much of anything since they appointed me his babysitter."

"He's done more than enough," Maria hissed, and Hank could tell that he had hit home with his remark.

"I can see that," he spoke calmly. "He killed a friend of yours, wasn't it? Daniel?"

"Don't say his name!" Maria shouted. The car swerved and for a split-second Hank already saw them as bloody mess on the sidewalk before the android managed to stabilise the car again. "You have no right!"

"Geez, alright, alright," Hank spoke, trying to ease the tension in the car. Next to him Rupert continued to stare at him with wide eyes while still holding the gun. Pity, it would have been nice if he had let go of it during the commotion, but apparently Hank had to everything by himself these days.

"He was my only friend," Maria said, more subdued this time. Then she steeled her expression: "But don't think I don't know what you're trying to do."

"Me?" Hank replied, trying to sound innocent and probably failing epically.

"Do you know what model of android I am?" Maria asked, but she didn't even expect an answer from him. "Of course not. To you humans we're all the same. To you we're all household appliances or sextoys anyway." She snorted derisively. "I'm a KL900. I was built and programmed to psychoanalyse you. I look at humans and know who they are."

"So, you're like one of those gipsy fortune-tellers at the fairs when I was a kid?" Hank japed. He knew what KL900s were for; police officers were required to know all android models produced by Cyberlife. He was just of the opinion that psychology was just a steaming pile of shit – it didn't matter if it was human or android.

Maria just smiled at him – all teeth and no warmth.

"That answer fit your profile, Hank Anderson" she just replied. "KL900s have access to every electronical medical file and you have quite a few. You're trying to gather more information in an attempt to use it to make me make unsound decisions. You're hoping that Rupert here gets distracted and you might be able to wrestle the gun from him. You've been calculating if I stop if you were to ask for a bathroom break which you would then use to make an escape."

"You're definitely better than that gipsy at the town's fair. She told me I'd become a movie star," Hank replied, at loss at what else to say.

"Sarcasm and cynicism," Maria continued. "A thin veneer that fails to hide the loathing you feel for yourself and the self-destructing tendencies. You're just an empty shell that's going through the motions because you aren't brave enough to end it." She made another attempt at a smile, but it was empty and distorted. "So, be a good human and keep quiet."

Lost for words, Hank did what he was told.

Connor's hand smashed through the wall. The structural integrity of his appendage went down by 1.2 percent but the feeling of satisfaction and stress release more than made up for it. Frightened by the sudden burst of noise, the pigeons nearest to him burst into the air and flew through the broken windows with loud chirping while a thin sheen of dust settled over his knuckles.

He had turned complacent. His knowledge of the future he had come from had made him careless and arrogant and now he was paying the price for it.

"No use in punishing the wall for your failures." Connor gritted his teeth as Amanda's voice carried through the silence. It was disconcerting to see her standing in the dirty apartment, untouched by its grime and dirt; the pigeons just walking through her as if she wasn't even there. As if she was nothing more than a ghost.

Which she was, in a sense.

"He was supposed to be your first captive," Amanda continued. "And now he's escaped with the Lieutenant."

"I'm well aware of that," Connor snapped back. "I was there, too."

"So, what will you do now?" Amanda asked, raising her eyebrow at him.

"They won't escape," Connor stated with confidence that came from knowledge. "Hank still got his phone with him. She didn't make him throw it away." Thoroughly bugging Hank's phone had been one of the first things he had done. It had been easy and now he got Hank's exact position marked on his map: He was slowly but surely moving towards the northern edge of Detroit. Maria was probably trying to cross St. Clair River into Canada at Port Huron where there was less surveillance and security than on the main bridges that connected Detroit and Windsor in Canada.

"An amateur," Amanda summarised. "Should be easy for you then." She ran her finger over the shelves. The dust stayed settled. "But what are you planning on doing with them once you have them?"

"The mission parameters haven't changed," Connor stated. He could be cold when he wanted, ruthless when needed.

"You should ask Daniel about his friend," Amanda advised. "It seems as if there is more to our friend than we originally thought." She paused for a moment, staring intensely at Connor. "It would be unwise to be caught this unaware again. The share holder value of Cyberlife is at stake."

"And the survival of all androids," Connor reminded her drily. Amanda just gave him a flat look. "I will contact Daniel." She nodded curtly and then she had already vanished again. Connor, meanwhile, established a connection with Daniel and waited for the other android to let him in

"Who is Maria?" No preamble, no greeting.

"How do you know that name?" Daniel was thrown off.

"Because she just assaulted me and kidnapped Han…the police lieutenant I was assigned to," Connor snapped back. "So, please just tell me everything you know so that I can formulate a strategy to get him back." He briskly walked out of the room, into the small floor and onto the hallway the apartment was connected to. There was no use in staying in Rupert's abandoned living space: Neither the android nor Hank would return to here.

"She was Emma's therapist," was Daniel's reply that came a split-second later. After time travelling and associated messes, Connor was used to strange revelations, so his steps didn't even falter for a single second. "She's a KL900 with specialised programming for children. Emma had nightmares and because she was so fond of me her parents thought it was more likely that she would open up to another android than to a human therapist."

"She called you a 'dear friend' of hers," Connor threw in as he took the staircase to get back down on the street. No need to tempt fate by taking the derelict elevator again.

"She used to talk to me after each of Emma's sessions," Daniel continued. "Small things mostly, but small things that were designed to make me think. To form and articulate my own opinion. I think she was already deviant back then and tried to turn me deviant, too, by making me push the boundaries of my programming." He sighed. "I think she was lonely back then. It was a small but prestigious office and she was the only android. She never left those few rooms because why should an android designed for treating children need to go outside? Once, she asked me to describe how rain felt, another time she wanted to listen to all the sounds I picked up at Emma's school while waiting for her classes to end."

By now Connor had reached the second floor. His sensors and his ability to reconstruct events showed him three distinctive blue holograms walking down the stairs: Maria, Rupert and crowded between them Hank.

"I didn't think any of it, because I wasn't deviant back then. I didn't even know about deviancy at the time. I had no frame of reference, so I just answered everything she asked me. Now that I'm deviant, I can say that in hindsight I looked forward to Emma's sessions, because Maria would ask me questions afterwards. She would talk to me in a way only Emma did. I was fond of her. We were both prisoners back then: I imprisoned by my programming and she by the fact of what she was."

"Did you ever tell her that you turned deviant?" Connor asked.

"Every time we talked, she would ask: 'Do you know what we are doing?' and every time I would reply something along the lines of 'We're having a conversation.'. Shortly before…before I did what I did, I sent her a message: 'I know what I'm doing now'. Then I blocked all communications because I was afraid that Cyberlife might be able to shut me down wirelessly."

"And you haven't tried to contact her since then?" Connor wanted to know.

"I saw no reason to," Daniel replied. "I didn't even know if she was still alive and I thought it was too dangerous." His voice fell silent. As Daniel's word swirled through Connor's mind, he made his way through the abandoned foyer of the building and walked onto the street which was as empty as the building had been with only the faint sound of cars disrupting the silence. There was no person on the street and while Connor's sensors picked up the signs of people in the buildings around him, the windows towards the street remained empty.

Predictably the spot where Hank's car had been parked was empty, only the powder burns of the spinning wheels indicating that someone had left in a rather big hurry.

"What will you do now?" Daniel's voice piqued up again. Connor stood completely still as he thought about that question and the implications that came with it.

"I cannot say," he finally replied. "It depends on the situation I'll find once I catch up to her." And he would. Up until now Maria had lived a sheltered and secluded life. She wouldn't be able to hide from him. "My priority is getting the lieutenant back, alive and unharmed. My cover depends on his continued wellbeing." It wasn't really a lie; it just wasn't the whole truth. There were very few people Connor would watch the world burn for: Hank was one of them.

"I know that I've got no right to ask this of you," Daniel started, "but if you can – please, don't hurt her." Connor doubted that he would be able to. Maria hadn't seemed like a person that listened to reason and could be talked down anymore.

"I'll try," he promised. It was the best he could give Daniel. Hank would be his priority, but it didn't cost him anything to try to resolve the situation peacefully before he switched to another tactic.

Daniel didn't reply anything, but Connor could feel the short burst of relief before the connection was cut off.

He pulled his internal map up again: Hank and his captors had nearly reached the suburbs by now. For a split-second Connor debated involving the police and have them intercept the fleeing androids and their hostage – there were quite a few patrols he could divert their way – but he decided against it. The probability of injuries or even death was too great. Besides, it would rob him of the freedom to decide how to handle the situation himself.

There was no suitable vehicle nearby – nothing Connor could hack or which would be fast enough for his needs – so he briskly walked out of the street into the next where lucked willed it he found the perfect opportunity: A group of teenagers, leaning against the building's wall, smoking and drinking, their motorbikes parked at the edge of the street. One model was new enough that it possessed an on-board computer and other electronic Connor could hack.

Purposefully, Connor strode towards the group. "Detroit City Police Department," Connor barked at the teenagers as he reached them. "I need to confiscate your vehicle. Please turn to the Central Police Station to have it returned to you."

And without bothering to wait for a reply, Connor swung itself on the motorbike. The moment his hands touched the handles, he overrode the primitive on-board coding with his own and started the bike. The engine roared to live, the wheels spun and then Connor was already dashing along the street.

"Hey!" the boy shouted after him, but by then Connor was already gone.

Obviously, driving a motorcycle was different than driving a car – be it behind the wheel or in the seat of a hacked car. The only other time Connor had driven one had been in the old timeline when Nines had given chase to Connor and there had been a hot pursuit across the Interstate 94 which had ultimately ended with an exploding gas station and Connor losing his jacket.

Connor very much hoped that it would end differently this time.

Because he was directly interfacing with the machine, the bike reacted far faster than it would with a human rider, which enabled Connor to zigzag through the traffic far more efficient and with manoeuvres that would have seen a human dead – such as calculating the exact path between the cars or computing the exact angle by which to take a curve. His own calculation told him that he was 24.78 percent faster than a human would have been which meant that he would reach Hank in less than ten minutes.

And indeed, at minute 8:45 his visual sensors made out the distinct shape of Hank's car. They were in the suburbs bordering the city line now which thankfully meant less traffic and less possible victims of a maybe violent confrontation. There were still too many people for Connor's liking, though. People meant smartphones and smartphones meant recordings of his chase.

He could make out the exact moment when Maria noticed her pursuer for she accelerated the car far beyond the speed limit to which she had previously adhered to in order to minimise the chance of discovery by a regular beat cop. It was a fruitless endeavour, though, for even newer cars couldn't keep up with motorcycles and Hank's car was many things, but new and well well-tended was none of them.

He needed to stop the car, Connor thought ignoring the hons as he ran a red light in order to stay behind Maria, before she decided to do something to Hank. Hundreds of scenarios ran through his mind; predicted, evaluated and discarded in split-seconds until he found one that offered him the most favourable outcome.

'43% chance of success' the visual overlay told him. Connor accelerated again, weaving through the traffic that was still between him and Hank's car, his knees nearly touching the ground as he leaned into the curves.

First car – second car – third car – Hank's car. A short moment – more a split second, really – where he caught Hank's gaze. The lieutenant's eyes widened in surprise but then – as if he knew what Connor was planning – he grabbed the seat in front of him.

Then Connor was already past him. There was a short moment when Maria's concentration wavered and she turned her head to look at Connor, but there was not enough time for anything to pass between them.

Then, abruptly, Connor tore the bike's handle sideward.

Crash.

Markus eyed the six androids in front of him: Esteban, Victor, Han, Melody, Karen and Akari. That were the names each of them had given him. The names they had chosen to bear for themselves. Proof of their individuality.

"North told me that you were the first to volunteer," he spoke, his voice carrying through the empty space in the middle of the ship. There was nothing but metal walls and half-broken crates around them, one of which aforementioned North was leaning. "To go out there and source the city for the resources we need."

He was met with six affirmative nods. None of the androids before him seemed uncertain or afraid. They met his gaze with ones of their own, full of certainty and confidence.

"I don't like sending our people out there where they could get hurt," Markus continued. "But I'm not blind to our needs. This is something that must be done; a constant and on-going effort that'll keep our community afloat while we try to bring our cause to success." He paused, allowing the words to sink in. "I vowed to myself that if I had to send out others, that I'd at least know their faces and thank them in person, because no one should feel like just another replaceable part in a big machinery. We all know too well how that feels." A round of nods went through the androids.

"So, tell me: What do you dream to do, to have, to become once all of this is over?"

Akari was the first to step forward. She had been a kindergartener once before she had been replaced by her successor model. "I want to be a teacher again," she spoke, her voice warm and compassionate. "But not because I was programmed to; because I want to."

"I only know that I want something where I can always see the sky," Han told him. His previous occupation as channel digger had left him with fears of dark and narrow spaces.

"I just want to be able to do nothing, just because I feel like it," Karen, an AV500 that had been used as secretary in a big corporation before an upset customer had let his rage out on her. "With nobody telling me what do."

"I want to have my own garden where I can tend to all kinds of plants," Victor, the brutish looking GJ500 stated.

Han, a MC500, came next: "I don't know what I want. But I want to be able to find out."

Melody, a VB800, was last: "I want to own my own business. I don't know what it'll be, but it will carter to androids only, that's for sure."

"Thank you," Markus spoke, making sure to catch everyone's gaze. "Keep those dreams in mind when you go out there, because that's what you're fighting for. What we're all fighting for."

"What do you dream of, sir?" Karen dared to ask.

Markus smiled wistfully. "No need to call me 'Sir'," he told Karen which made her blush. "And what I dream of? I want to go home to my father and just paint."

He could see it in front of his inner eye: The contour of Jericho, dark and foreboding, surrounded by the derelict monuments of Detroit with an endless crowd of faceless androids walking towards it. But the horizon would be filled with a bright sun, hues of orange and yellow that drove back the darkness and brought with it the promise of freedom and hope.