November 6th, 2038

AM 12:55:22


Time seemed to halt. Your jaw tensed as your nails dug into your palms. Your stomach was in knots, acid welling in your belly. Loud thumps banged against your eardrums, rattling the skull behind them. Each pulse struck your neck like lightning, riding the storm in your chest.

Connor's lethal glare left you, baring his teeth at the baited deviant.

"If you remain silent, there is nothing I can do to help you!" His warning came like a crack of thunder, "They're gonna shut you down for good! You'll be dead! Do you hear me? DEAD!"

He bit at the shark cage, and the suspect's silence only drove him deeper into his watery grave.

"You're a machine, you were designed to obey, so OBEY!" He slammed the table with his hand, the folder fluttering next to it, "Tell me what happened!"

The fury that came from him…You didn't think it was possible from an android. From him. It could've been an act, but…there was a lot of internalized frustration that went into releasing that much anger.

Gavin snickered, "Damn…Your new RoboCop buddy is really losing his cool, ey, Dollface?"

You turned around in your chair, grabbing the back of it with a grip so hard your knuckles turned white, "I'm about five seconds from losing my shit, Reed."

"Go for it." He winked, "I like it when you're angry."

"Back off, Gavin." Chris growled, "You're being an ass."

"You're all fucking annoying." Hank mumbled, "Except you, Chris. I like you."

You pushed a huff through your nose, "Thanks, Lieutenant…"

"Hey now. You're alright in doses."

Connor interrupted the argument, doing all the work while the four of you bickered like over-privileged children.

"Okay then, don't talk." His arms swept out to his sides, his back hitting his chair, "What do I care after all?" A small laugh danced on his words, his mouth pulled back in a cocky grin, "Heh, I mean, I'm not the one accused of murder, right?"

Hank slid his palms along his legs, cupping his knees as if he was about to stand, "All right. He's grabbing at straws now."

Your foot bounced underneath the observation panel in an anxious rhythm.

"Come on, Connor…Prove them wrong…"

Connor moved with an inhumane quickness, retrieving the evidence folder and pinning it between the table and his hand. He slammed it so hard, the rubber tips of the desk's legs shuddered in place.

"TWENTY. EIGHT. Stab wounds…" He pushed against the ledge, his chair grinding against the floor, "You didn't want to leave him a chance, huh?"

Chris smirked at Hank, "Spoke too soon, eh?"

"Hmph."

Connor rose from his seat. He circled the wounded man lost at sea, who drowned in his own fear.

"Did you feel anger? HATE?"

The deviant jumped at each crunching word. He began to shake.

You two had that in common.

Connor pointed at the folder, his eyes on the hunt, "He was bleeding, begging you for mercy! But you stabbed him…" He towered over him, his shadow blanketing the deviant as he jabbed his finger in his shoulder like a knife, "Again, and again, and AGAIN!"

"Please-" The chains rattled along the table as the killer begged for mercy, trying to scoot away from the predator stalking its prey, "Please leave me alone…"

"I know you killed him…Why don't you say it?!" Connor's focus never strayed as he paced, turning his back to the glass.

"Please – Please stop!"

Connor's arms raised. His hands came down, pounding the table in his reign of terror.

"Just say, 'I killed him!' Is it that hard to SAY?!"

"Stop it, STOP!"

Connor latched onto the murder's shirt like a set of jaws.

"Jesus…Shit-" Hank's eyebrows creased.

"Just say you killed him!" He yanked his fresh kill to his feet, his wrists still bound to the table, "JUST SAY IT!"

The microphone crackled from the booming demand. The four of you were speechless, watching with wide circles for eyes.

Just like that, Connor let him go. The deviant landed in his chair with a loud "thud." Connor pulled on his jacket, straightening it out. He studied the pieces of the shattered individual below him, even as he returned to his seat, hardly making a sound as he lowered himself.

He had an ominous look about him – one that shouldn't have been exhilarating. You shouldn't have been enjoying any of this, but watching him break…Watching him show such raw, unrefined emotion…

You were mesmerized. Attracted to the danger in his eyes. The strength in his presence. His cold, calculated demeanor…

You remembered what resulted from the last time you pursued a man like that, and snapped yourself out of it.

The suspect's panic dissolved. His shuddering pupils stilled. The quivering on his lips formed a hard line. He'd been lost in his own nightmare, and Connor had pulled him stumbling back to a harsh reality.

"He tortured me every day…I did whatever he told me, but…There was always something wrong…" His eyes lifted to Connor with what seemed like a mixture of hate and sadness, "Then one day…He took a bat and started hitting me…For the first time, I felt…"

A word rolled off his tongue with a definitive break.

"Scared…" He paused, mouth slightly ajar, "Scared he might destroy me, scared I might die…"

Hank stirred next to you. He leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees. He was quiet, and enthralled...You hadn't seen him passionate about a case in a long, long time.

"So I…grabbed the knife, and I stabbed him in the stomach. I felt better…so I stabbed him again, and AGAIN..." The deviant parroted Connor's previous notion, "Until he collapsed. There was blood, everywhere…"

He wasn't a murderer without probable cause. He was, at one point, a victim. Now, he was a survivor.

A survivor with a story of self-defense that no one cared about.

"Fucking. FINALLY." Gavin yawned, halfway across the room before Hank's arm barred him.

"Not yet." He looked up, "I don't think Connor's finished."

"Jesus fu…Look, we have a confession. We have a motive. Why are you so fucking fixated on dragging this out?"

"Because, ASSHOLE," Hank sprang from his seat, the chair spinning behind him, "There's a fucking caseload twice the size of the rulebook in my inbox involving these haywire fucks, and I need to figure out WHY."

"Just what the fuck would you know about the rulebook?" Gavin hovered inches from his face.

"A lot more than you, you smug mother-"

"Why did you write, 'I AM ALIVE,' on the wall?" Connor pressed.

Their heads turned, crossing their arms and separating themselves.

You and Chris exchanged nervous glances. He was starting to sweat, too.

"He used to tell me I was nothing…That I was just a piece of plastic…I had to write it. To tell him he was wrong…"

"When did you start feeling emotion?" Connor tilted his head to the side.

"Before, he used to beat me, and I never said anything… But one day I realized it wasn't…FAIR!" The deviant's cheeks puffed as if mauling on what he wanted to say before spitting it out, "I felt…AngerHatred…And then I knew what I had to do."

His nostrils flared. His teeth clenched as he contained rage in its most primitive form. He took on the persona as the killer everyone claimed him to be – an evolution that blossomed right before your eyes.

"The sculpture, in the bathroom…" Connor remained calm and steady, "You made it, right? What does it represent?"

"It's an offering…an offering so I'll be saved."

"An offering to whom?"

"To rA9…Only rA9 can save us…"

"Who is rA9? What does it mean?" Connor asked the question in a way that expressed just how badly he wanted to know.

The deviant closed his eyes, and when he opened them, they were trained on him in the most terrifying fashion.

"The day shall come, when we will no longer be slaves…No more threats, no more humiliation…" He sucked in a breath, and let it out in cold revelation, "We. Will. Be…The masters."

The damp hairs on your arms pressed against the inside of your sleeves, rising at the cryptic threat.

"The fuck is he goin' on about?" Gavin was standing in front of the door, "Come on, Hank. This is getting out of control."

He was background noise. Nothing but ambience in the heavy silence that anchored everyone in the observation room.

Connor wordlessly drilled into the deviant; almost like he was perturbed, but with a satiated hunger.

His unsettling gaze rotated towards the mirror, "I'm done."

"There." Gavin barked, "You see? He's done. Now let's throw this freak in a cell and go the fuck home."

He flattened his hand against the biometric scanner, and an electronic click buzzed. You leapt out of your chair, following Chris with Hank behind you.

Connor was shuffled in the corner as the small squad passed. You kept your head down, fearful of looking him in the face. He'd shown a second side of him. One that scared you.

"Chris, lock it up." Gavin ordered.

Your partner gave you an unsure glance, holstering his gun and retrieving the keys on his belt. They jingled as they unlocked the cuff restraints, their teeth stripping as they tightened.

"All right, let's go-"

"Leave me alone-" The deviant's LED flashed red, his arms jerking, "Don't touch me…"

Chris frowned, his hands hovering over the killer – lowering on his shoulders, and then pulling back when he retreated.

"The fuck are you doing?" Gavin growled, "Move it!"

"Okay, okay…" Chris gulped, pressing his palms firmly against the android's biceps.

He resisted, and the two of them began to struggle.

"You shouldn't touch it." Connor interjected, his casual demeanor brought into question once again, "It'll self-destruct if it feels threatened."

"Stay outta this, got it? No fuckin' android is gonna tell me what to do." Gavin watched Chris with impatience in his features.

The deviant was unstable. Chris, although simply following orders, was failing to control the situation. Your hand dropped to your side, and found your pistol's grip. A weapon without a safety, but damn, did it make things feel safer.

A set of fingers gently brushed across yours. Hank looked at you, shaking his head "no."

"You don't understand." Connor remained firm in his stance, "If it self-destructs, we won't get anything out of it!"

"I told you to shut your fuckin' mouth!" Gavin yelled in a hoarse voice, shifting his anger to your partner, "Chris, you gonna move this asshole or what?"

"I'm trying!" He growled through a hitched breath.

The deviant wrestled against him harder. Chris bit his lip, doing his best to maintain a hold.

"I can't let you do that!" Connor took two, heated steps forward, "Leave it alone, now!"

He placed his hand on Chris's back, rolling his shoulder and to face him directly. Chris stumbled backwards, breathless and confused as the deviant shook between them.

The lock on your holster unbuckled. Your hand wrapped around your pistol's handle. Hank didn't stop you, this time. You'd almost preferred he had, because if he didn't think you were overacting, things were about to go south. Fast.

Gavin pointed his gun, his arms parallel to the floor, "I warned you, motherfucker!"

Connor barely flinched as the barrel hung a foot away from his forehead.

"That's enough!" Hank's order wasn't as angry as it was irritated, as if Gavin was merely being petty.

As if pulling a gun on the android who'd gained the deviant's confession wasn't a huge deal, and only a minor inconvenience.

"Mind…Your own…Business, Hank." Gavin spat his name.

"I said…" Hank drew his weapon, slowly acquiring Gavin in his sights, "…That's enough."

Your hand twitched. You found Chris across the room, just as conflicted.

Gavin's eyes switched between Hank's gun and his own, snarling and frustrated by the stalemate.

"Fuck," His defeat came as an enraged whisper, and he pointed a finger at Hank, "You're not gonna get away with it this time…"

He rocked in place, his fists closing, "Fuck!"

Gavin gave Connor one more threatening glare before exiting the room.

Your muscles may have relaxed, but your hand didn't leave your gun. Even with Gavin gone, you had a bad feeling. You'd ignored your instincts before. You'd learned from that mistake, long ago.

"Everything is all right…" Connor tried to comfort the deviant, moving towards him as Chris took to his side, "It's over now…"

"They're gonna destroy me…"

"Nobody is gonna hurt you."

"You're lying!" The deviant shouted, "How are you on their side?! Don't you see what they do to us?!"

"Chris, back up." Hank ordered.

The chair flew out from under the killer who'd been released from his chains, knees locking in place as he forced himself to his feet. He reached for Chris's belt, and knocked him to the floor.

"WATCH OUT!" Hank tried to pull you to cover.

You dodged his grip.

You may have been shot in the arm, but Chris was right about something other than what he'd observed at the crime scene:

You were still the best shot on the force.

Your weapon was an extension of your being; you knew it well. The shift in weight as a bullet rolled into the chamber. The way the metal sights became your second pair of eyes.

The concentration of the steel.

Sure, Connor was in his element, getting the confession. But here, with a Glock 22 and fifteen rounds of .40 ammunition in your hands…

You, were the apex predator, now.

And the deviant was smart prey.

He aimed at Connor, the android who'd saved your life. An image played in your mind - how your old partner sacrificed himself, pushing you to safety with his shoulder. You mimicked the motion. Found your mark. Pulled the trigger.

Your breath was pushed from your lungs, each spec of oxygen sizzling in your bullet's trail. Your back slammed against a body – one that was soft on the outside, reinforced by a hardened, plastic frame. He hooked his elbows to yours, lowering you to the ground before you fell.

Everything was a mess of blurs and distorted sounds.

Connor's face. His fingers snapping the quick-release of your bulletproof vest. Your stomach going cold as your shirt was untucked and partially lifted. Yellow that flickered to blue, and a following diagnosis. Hank shoving Connor aside, afterwards. Chris's sobs. Gavin's roar as he returned.

There was a saying amongst the police officers in the Detroit City Police Department:

"In This Family, We Bleed Blue."

It was often accommodated by a blue stripe painted on black…much like the thirium streaking down the room's slate walls, bursting from a hole in the deviant's head. Splattered on Chris - who stood there, traumatized.

Except he wasn't looking at the body. Not the android's, anyway. He was looking at you.

You wanted to reassure him, and tell him this wasn't the first time you'd been shot by a deviant…

You just hoped it would be the last.


A/N: You're all probably tired of hearing this, but I'm going to keep saying it, anyway.

Thank you for everything.