Disclaimer: I do not own Detroit: Become Human. This story contains violence, abuse, and dark themes. Viewer discretion is advised.

DATE: - -, -

TIME: 07:46:09 P.M

He poked his head out from behind the thick red curtain, looking out into the crowd of audience members, who were less than patient, waiting for something or someone to walk onto the grand stage. The three judges sitting at their desk closest to the stage looked the most impatient as they constantly checked their watches and anxiously tapped their pens. Then, looking past their irritated expressions and to the first row of audience members, his eyes locked onto the empty seat that made his heart painfully sink to the bottom of his soul.

"Gabriel, it's getting late. It's time to go on." He jumped slightly at the female voice, the slender black bag slung over his shoulder bouncing. He turned around to see a woman with a petite stature and a round rosy face, her lips pursed worriedly and microphone in hand, ready to announce him on stage.

"Please, just five more minutes, Ms. Mason." He pleaded. "He promised he'd come, so he'll be here any minute." Ms. Mason didn't look convinced.

"You've said that for the past twenty minutes. Everyone who's after you has already gone. You're the only one left to go. We can get someone to videotape you, so he'll technically still see your performance."

"No, it's not the same. He has to be here now, he promised." He looked back out at the audience, the empty seat still taunting him. "Eli promised." Looking a moment longer, he noticed that there were now two empty seats.

"Is something the matter?" his heart skipped a beat as he turned to face the woman who asked the question. She was much taller and stout than Ms. Mason, with her chestnut hair loosely tied back to show the look of concern on her pale face.

"I'm sorry I didn't see you." Ms. Mason apologized, addressing the other woman. "Gabriel's upset that Elijah isn't here. I've tried getting him to go, but his anxiety gets the best of him."

"Oh, poor boy," the woman sighed, holding her hand over her heart. "Let me calm him down. Please excuse yourself, Ms. Mason."

"Of course, Mrs. Kamski." Ms. Mason left, going deeper backstage to calm down the rowdy children who were ready to hear the results of the competition and go home. The woman's heels clicked sharply on the hardwood floor as she walked over to him and knelt, now being eye-level with him. "So," she started, voice low and sharp, "The only time I'm obligated to come and watch you play, it just so happens that you don't want to perform." He flinched when she grabbed him by the shoulders, her nails biting into his skin underneath his formal coat and pulled him closer. Her eyes narrowed, the left a pale grey and right a deep brown. She sneered. "Are you trying to piss me off?"

"N-no, Mother," he began stuttering, "Eli promised h-he'd be here." Her scowl deepened.

"You know Elijah has his own competition tonight, and that's more important than this shit. You're like a pest that leeches off of him. You almost made him late because he had to help you with your damn prosthetic. He shouldn't have to deal with your bullshit, but you make him. So, for once, do something useful," She let him go and stood up before grabbing his dark maple cello and nearly tossing it for him to catch. She glared down at him and hissed: "Go out there and play that fucking cello. You understand me, bastard?" he nodded with his head hung low.

"Good."

"Is everything alright, Mrs. Kamski?" Ms. Mason asked, coming back from backstage. Mother turned around with a smile to address the teacher.

"Why certainly, Ms. Mason. The boy's all ready to perform." She looked back at him, seeing that her smile didn't even graze her eyes, "Make me proud, I'll be watching." She left, heading back to her seat, and Ms. Mason approached.

"Do you need help bringing your cello on stage?" he shook his head.

"No, I can take care of myself."

"Alright then, good luck to you, Gabriel." She went out on stage, and the audience quieted down, and the judges focused their attention on the stage. "Apologies for the delay, everyone, and thank you for your patience." Ms. Mason said into the microphone. "Please welcome our final performer of the night, the young cellist Gabriel Kamski and his rendition of Prokofiev's Sinfonia Concertante." There was a dull round of applause as she walked off stage, and he walked on, carrying his cello case to the center of the stage where a chair and cello stand waited for him. He saw that Mother was already back in her seat saying something to the black-suited man beside her. He set the cello down in the stand and sat down in the chair before taking off and opening the bag. He reached in with his left hand, pulled out his bow, and brought it to his right arm with his coat sleeve rolled up. It revealed the round stump of a shiny black prosthetic limb with a hole at its end. He entered the end of the specialized bow into the hole of the prosthetic and locked it into place. With the bow secured to his limb, he grabbed his cello from the stand and brought it to a starting position, his left hand shaking as it pressed down on the strings.

He took his first glance at the audience, seeing the emotionless judges stare him down, the darkened faces of the crowd, Mother's scowl, and the empty seat next to her. Hearing his heart pound in his head, he brought up his bow to play the first note. He cringed as a grinding screech came from the cello, and he wanted to cry.

"What's wrong, Gabe?"

"I can't play in front of judges! My hand always shakes, and I sound so bad. Everyone's gonna laugh at me more than they already do."

"Hey, it's alright. Come here. It's normal to be anxious when playing in front of people, but don't let that stop you from expressing your talent. Whenever you get scared, just take a deep breath, close your eyes, and play for yourself. Listen and only focus on your music."

"Will that really work?"

"You have to give it a try first."

He steadied himself, relaxing his grip on the cello as he took in a deep breath and exhaled. He shut his eyes, blanketing the world around him in darkness, and listened as he strung his bow across the cello's strings. He was relieved to hear to crisp clean note that radiated from the instrument and the harmonious notes that followed soon after.

"… Can I play for you instead of me?"

"Yes, of course. I'll be there to hear your song."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The song was fiery, his bow raving across the silver strings in a lively dance as his fingers fought to tame the vibrating strings humming through his bones. He didn't want to care about the judges. The crowd. Mother. The empty seat. He only wanted to listen to his song and be comforted by its lulling tones. But it was so hard to when the broken promise was eating away at his heart with every strum. He didn't notice the transition of his song until he heard the calmer tempo and softer chords. His movements were much softer as if stroking the strings in apology for being so rough with them earlier. Eli had never broken any of his promises. So why couldn't he have fulfilled this one? Finally, he reached the crescendo of his song, giving one last burst of notes that reverberated through his chest and sore fingers before coming to an end with a single hum that drifted into silence.

The silence lasted for a few lingering moments then a singular applause sounded in the darkness. Gabriel slowly opened his eyes, momentarily blinded by the stage lights before finding the source of the clapping. The chair was still empty, but that was only because Eli was standing before it, his glasses askew and coat unbuttoned, clapping his hands together heartily with the most enormous smile he's ever seen on him. The pieces of his shattered heart instantly reformed in that single moment. The crowd soon joined Eli, the auditorium erupting with applause and cheers, and even though Mother didn't stand, she slowly clapped her hands. The only applause he cared about was Eli's, happily bowing to him, and when he came up, there was a beaming smile on his face and tears of joy and relief running down his face. He got second place, beating bronze by two points, and he held his silver trophy with pride as he stood next to his fellow trophy winners.

With his cello slung on his back and trophy in hand, he moved through the crowd of other performers trying to find their parents, and he didn't need to take long to find who he was looking for when he walked into the lobby. He ran into Eli's waiting arms and hugged him tightly with his arm and a half.

"You came!"

"I promised I would, didn't I?" Eli hugged back.

"Thanks so much. I got a bit worried that you wouldn't come."

"I'm so sorry I was late. I tried leaving after finishing my presentation, but Father wouldn't drive me to see you perform. So I had to take a bus halfway instead and sprint the rest of the way."

"Which was very dangerous for you to do, Elijah." Mother scolded with her false smile still plastered on her face, cutting off her conversation with the lean blonde-haired man that sat beside her during the performance. "Someone could have hurt you in ways you couldn't think of. Your father won't be pleased." Eli glanced at Mother and shrugged her off, maintaining his smile.

"Well, I apologize for causing you and Father distress. I promise I'll make it up to you later." He directed his attention back to his younger brother. "You did so well today. You've earned that trophy."

"Only because two of the judges decided to give pity points." Mother's words hurt, and Gabriel tried his best not to show it.

"Mother, be careful." Eli spoke up as he stared Mother down. "We're in public. Maybe you should go to the car where no one has a chance of hearing you." Mother did a fine job of keeping her calm smile, but he saw how her eye twitched as it fought not to glare.

"Very well then, Elijah. Don't make me wait long. Peter, grab the boy's instrument and take it to the car." The black-suited man, Peter, nodded, face expressionless.

"Yes, Mrs. Kamski." Peter took the cello off his back and walked out of the lobby.

"I'll handle your award, boy." She said, reaching out to grab his trophy, but Eli beat her to it.

"I can hold onto it, Mother. You may end up losing it like the others."

"Oh, yes, and that'd be a terrible shame, wouldn't it?" Mother was taller than Eli, though he was soon catching up, which showed as she came to whisper something in his ear. Eli didn't react and wiped his cheek after Mother had kissed it and left.

"What'd she say?" he asked, and Eli's smile quickly returned.

"Don't worry about it." He took a closer look at the silver trophy in his hand; a treble clef was on top of the small wooden podium with a golden plaque that read 2nd Placing Instrumentalist of Brahms Music Academy. "I think today's the best you've ever played. You played with so much more than with just your hands," he cringed, "Or hand, sorry."

"Nah, it's fine. I say "hands" sometimes too."

"Did the prosthetic feel okay? I can always make adjustments."

"I hardly felt it, but…"

"But what?"

"Other kids say it looks weird."

"Don't worry, I'll make the next model look more inconspicuous." Eli must have noticed his confused expression as he restated. "It won't draw as much attention."

"I'd like that a lot." He rubbed his arm, the one that was only half of what it should have been, where Eli had to help him get ready and almost ran late for his own competition, the competition that he had to leave early and make Father upset just so he didn't miss his performance. He felt a little less happy after that thought.

"Hey, Gabe, is something the matter?" Eli was always so good at reading him. It helped a lot at times when he was too scared to express emotions.

"I… I'm sorry for bothering you so much."

"Bother me? …" Eli sighed, crouching down to be closer to his eye level and gently grasping his younger brother's face. "You don't bother me, Gabe. Don't listen to what Mother says. I do all of this for you because I want to. Everything I do to take care of you is my choice, and I don't feel burdened by you in the slightest. No one can stop me from caring about you, not even yourself. And you know why?" Eli smiled brightly, his right eye a beaming crystal blue and his left a vibrant green. "Because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." Gabriel couldn't have smiled wider as he hugged his brother again, burying his face into the crook of his neck and taking in his warmth.

"I love you, Eli."

"I love you too, Gabe."

DATE: December 1, 2028

TIME: 04:30:00 P.M

"Hello, and good afternoon, Detroit. I'm your host, Rosanna Cartland, with KNC news. Today I have with me the CEO…" Rosanna cursed the typo on her script. "Excuse me, the now-former CEO of CyberLife, Mr. Elijah Kamski, and CyberLife's first-ever android, the RT600." She gestured to her guests sitting adjacent to her on a white stainless couch with a smile. The android was dressed in a midnight blue dress and black shawl which contrasted greatly against the ivory couch. Its blonde hair was neatly brushed and rested over its shoulder in a ponytail. Despite the dark colors it wore, it had a friendly smile though its dull blue eyes lacked the same charm.

Beside it sat its creator, dressed in a sleek black suit and tie, his long dark hair tied back, and his facial hair neatly trimmed. Thin-rimmed glasses rested before his eyes, and there was a glare on the lenses that obscured his eyes. With how little he shifted in his seat, it wouldn't be gone anytime soon. He adorned a relaxed smile as his fingers tapped periodically on his knee.

"I'd like to apologize for my mistake, Mr. Kamski." Rosanna apologized.

"We all make mistakes, Mrs. Cartland." The former CEO replied, his voice calm and even. "I'd like to get started with the interview if you don't mind."

"Oh, not at all." She glanced down at her list of questions. "Not too long ago, you publicly resigned from your CEO position at CyberLife. Could you elaborate on why you'd abandon your Trillin dollar company?" Mr. Kamski stopped tapping his finger and clasped his hands together in his lap.

"It's interesting how you worded that question, ."

"Well, I know if I had a company that made me one of the richest people in the world, I wouldn't turn my back on it."

"It was never about the money, at least not for me. I was inspired to create, and create I did. I simply wished to share my creations with the world. And now that I have, it's time for me to move on. I've grown tired of studying my own works."

"So, you got bored, is what you're saying?"

"Life is short, shorter than most people want to realize. I never planned on dedicating my entire life to one thing, Mrs. Cartland." Rosanna nodded her head and looked back down at her notes.

"Why did you choose Saul Kamski as the new CEO of CyberLife?"

"Ah, yes, Saul," he said almost like he was recollecting the person fondly. "Well, he helped during the latter stages of CyberLife's creation. So, it felt natural for him to take my place as CEO. I'm certain he'll do just fine as long as he keeps his goals focused."

"I see. Considering that you gave the company to your cousin, would you say that CyberLife is a family business?" Mr. Kamski smiled slightly.

"Not in the traditional sense. Until CyberLife is properly insured and stabilized, it'll be kept in safe hands to ensure its prosperity." Rosanna unconsciously nodded her head as she moved on to the next question.

"What do you plan to do, now that you left CyberLife?"

"I can't give any specifics, but I will be taking much-needed time to do some overdue internal reflection."

"And why would you need to do that?"

"If I don't, I'll lose my mind. My mentor told me as much, and she wasn't wrong." His smile faded. "It's a shame she can't be with us any longer."

"Yes, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you for your condolences. Do you have any more questions?"

"Only a couple more. I wanted to ask what will the RT600 be tasked with next in your absence?"

"I'll be leaving along with Elijah." Rosanna was slightly startled by the android answering her as it had been silent for the entirety of the interview with an unwavering smile. "Though even I'm not certain what'll be in store for us, I'm certain it'll be quite the adventure." It always unnerved Rossana how human the android spoke, with pauses and inflections.

"And um, Chloe, why would you be leaving instead of continuing to work for CyberLife?"

"CyberLife doesn't own me, Mrs. Cartland." The android chuckled. "I'm registered in Elijah's name. Wherever he goes, I go, unless he tells me otherwise… But I hope to always be by his side," it looked to its creator and smiled brightly enough that its eyes seemed to glow in the studio lights. "I think Elijah's amazing." Mr. Kamski didn't turn to look at his android or acknowledge the compliment it gave him. The android's smile diminished, its hand flinching like it planned to reach out but kept still. Rosanna didn't question the android further.

"I have one more question for you, Mr. Kamski."

"Ask away." She looked down at the notes on her desk one final time.

"Since your brother, Gabriel Kamski, has passed, who will take your inheritance?" The android's reaction caught her eyes as its LED flashed yellow, and its eyes widened by a fraction before shifting to a fixed stare on the reporter. Mr. Kamski, on the other hand, maintained his calm smile and relaxed posture. She didn't notice any changes in him until he spoke, that is.

"I don't believe that is a question you should be asking." She'd interviewed Mr. Kamski before, it wasn't new for him to not answer a question straightforwardly, but it was unnatural for him to outright dismiss a question. Regardless, Rosanna pressed forwards.

"My apologies, I'm not trying to be insensitive, but people are curious as to who all your money will go to."

"Mrs. Cartland, I believe Elijah hasn't decided yet. It's still too soon." The android spoke up, sounding solemn with a gentle grimace. "Thank you so much for this interview, Mrs. Cartland. You were a wonderful hostess." Rosanna shot a brief glare towards the android; she wasn't going to let a piece of plastic dictate when her interview ended. But it seemed that she didn't need to put her foot down, as Mr. Kamski calmly raised his hand, and the android shut its mouth.

"No, Chloe, this interview isn't finished." He said matter a factly as he lowered his hand, continuing to face the reporter. "Far from it." His hands clasped tightly together in his lap. Rosanna couldn't see his eyes, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to. "I'll give you an answer, Mrs. Cartland. There is a time and place for everything. Later in the new year would be a better time to decide what I wish to do with my inheritance. It'll most likely go to fund CyberLife as I have no children of my own. What about you?" Rosanna was confused for a moment, caught off by the sudden question directed at her.

"Pardon me?"

"I said," Mr. Kamski raised his hand again and removed his glasses. She finally saw his eyes, cold crystal blue orbs piercing into her like icicles born in frigid winter. A peculiar gleam in his left eye seemed to shift its hue to a more greenish tone. His fixated gaze never left her as he spoke. "What about you? Do you have children, Mrs. Cartland?"

"I…" Rosanna cleared her anxious throat. "Yes, I have a son. He's turning five next week. Unsurprisingly, he wants a robot-themed party." She chuckled softly, but Mr. Kamski didn't share the same sentiment, not even attempting a pity laugh.

"What's his name?"

"It's Dylan. Um, Mr. Kamski, why—"

"Dylan. What a fine name for a fine young boy. You love Dylan, don't you?"

"Of course, I do."

"How much do you love your son?"

"More than you could ever imagine, Mr. Kamski." She replied a bit coarsely, a part of her perturbed by the questioning. Mr. Kamski nodded as if in agreement.

"Naturally, as every mother should." He almost chuckled, his fingers dirtying the lenses of his glasses that were clutched in his hand. "Now, Mrs. Cartland, I want you to imagine, if you can, that you're at work and it's been a long but successful day. So, successful in fact, that you've been given a raise, and you plan to surprise Ted about the good news when you get home." Rosanna's eyes widened. She hadn't told Mr. Kamski her husband's name. Mr. Kamski ignored her shocked expression as he continued. "Nearing the end of your shift, you get a call, and you ignore that call because you're still on the clock, and you can't disappoint your boss who just gave you a raise. But it continues to ring and to ring, and you continue to ignore it.

"Only after your work is done do you decide to finally answer your phone." his grip tightened on his glasses, his smile fading to a chill scowl. "And the caller says that your son's been in an accident. A very unfortunate accident." Despite his calm tone, his eyes were narrowed into a sharp glare that burned through her. "Before you can ask, "what did you do?" the caller tells you not to be upset because there was nothing you could have done to stop the accident.

"Because it was an accident after all." The glasses' frame creaked in his grasp. "By the time you get to the hospital, he's already pronounced dead by the doctors. And the moment you see his body on the bed, you feel… You feel." A muffled crunch filled the silent studio, and Rosanna held back her startled gasp. Mr. Kamski's eyes never left her as the glasses were crushed in his unyielding grip, the broken lens shards cutting into his palms. A single drop of crimson dripped down his fist to stain the pure white couch. "Could you imagine how you would feel in that moment, Mrs. Cartland? If you're able to." Rosanna didn't respond right away, trying to collect herself while her guest bled over her pristine sofa.

"… No, I couldn't, Mr. Kamski."

"Would you like to keep it that way?" A chill raked through her spine, and her mouth went dry. A small smile crept onto Mr. Kamski's face as he chuckled softly. "I'm simply joking, Mrs. Cartland. No need to be so uptight." She didn't know if the chilly feeling she felt wash over her was relief or fear. She hid her uneasiness behind a false smile and a humorless laugh.

"Of course, Mr. Kamski. I'm all out of questions, so this is, unfortunately, the end of the interview. I'm glad that I got the chance to interview you once again. I wish you a happy retirement."

"Tell Dylan I wish him a happy early birthday." She only nodded back when the bell sounded, declaring that the recording was finished. The android, whose LED maintained a humming blue, produced a white napkin from its shawl and wrapped it around Mr. Kamski's bleeding hand, who didn't flinch in the slightest. The cloth quickly dyed a deep red. Mr. Kamski looked to his android, face devoid of emotion. Finally, he wordlessly left the set, tiny specs of glass and droplets of blood were the only things left behind by the former CEO. The android looked at her, and its default smile returned.

"We'll pay for the new lounge sofa, Mrs. Cartland. I hope you have a good day." It left as well, following after its creator backstage. Rosanna exasperated, running her hands down her face, not caring that she was ruining her makeup. She heard someone approach her and looked up to see her producer, who looked just as shaken as her.

"Who the hell wrote that script?" She questioned.

"They said it didn't matter, only that somebody read it, and you did. So, good job out there, Cartland." Her producer replied. She grabbed her notes from her desk and stood with a huff.

"Listen, Robert, I'm grateful for the raise you gave me, but if you ever make me interview another Kamski, I'm going to work for CTN."