November 9th, 2038

PM 01:03:35


A/N: I'm so glad you liked 42, and thanks for all the emotional support, guys. :D

To clarify, it's just been a long month with work and college. Nothing super catastrophic. ONE MORE WEEK!

Now, enjoy. :)


The flutter of a butterfly's wings is said to possess the ability to unleash havoc weeks later. The innate aptitude to disturb the universe's initial conditions with a promise to deliver large-scale change.

You hadn't known how viciously that havoc could be wrought until you were surrounded by the deterministic chaos that brewed atop the Stratford Tower; reminiscent of nonlinear systems and words of freedom twisting between gales.

You didn't have much to say after Perkins left. How he made it a point to discuss federally-protected information in Hank and Connor's company only heightened your worries that he somehow knew they were involved. Didn't know what you would or could say, after that.

Nothing but an apology that wouldn't have meant a damn thing. The damage had been done, and you were tallying the body count.

You avoided the group of men on the other side roof, pressing your back to one of the HVAC units humming along. Captain Allen was yelling at…someone, but thankfully not you, this time.

You hugged your data pad amidst the cold calamity, your tears stinging as they cooled on contact with the frigid ashes. You were unstable, sliding to sit on the heels of your boots; trying to rationalize irrationalities as you were both awake and asleep in superposition within a quantic dream.

Things could have been different, and there was so much you wish you would've done differently. So many timelines you wanted to skip through, tweaking decisions and letting loose the effects to ripple through and play themselves out.

But you'd have to live with these choices…or not.

"You'll live longer."

It'd been one thing to intimidate you. Threaten your sanctions.

Special Agent Perkins had threatened your life.

This wasn't a new phenomenon, it's just…the way he did it…

Crunching footsteps came closer, and you tensed. You didn't dare peek the corner; rather, you tapped away at the touch screen in your lap and wiped your nose with your sleeve. You hugged yourself as you pulled your jacket closer.

Probably just one of the CSI squaddies coming to check something out…Hopefully.

"Gavin told me that FBI agent was giving you guys a hard time."

Nope.

"Came over here to yell at you some more." Chris fell into a squat next to you, lacing his fingers together, "Seems like a bad time."

You sniffed, and found a tired smile pointed at you.

"I-I'm sorry." You swallowed, "I fucked up-"

"Both of us fucked up…" He took his hat off, swiping snow from the edges of the crest.

He rocked it back and forth, the twinkle shimmering in the pale-blue light.

"We should've waited for back up…"

"We couldn't just let that guy die."

"That's what I said!" He flipped it back over his head, "No one wanted to hear it…I guess this is what happens when you work under two people who used to work with you."

"Huh?"

"Gavin. Old partner, now Detective. David. Old CO, now SWAT Captain…" He sighed, "I got reamed, man."

"...I should've at least stayed with you so we'd get yelled at together." You smirked, chewed the inside of your cheek, and your hands balled in frustration, "I just wanted answers. I thought…"

"You thought, what? You'd go up here and have a friendly chat with the androids who shot a clerk and broadcasted whatever it is you wrote on national TV?"

You bit your tongue.

"That what Special Agent Sunshine was bothering you about?"

You picked at your fingernails, scraping the dried blood and Thirium out from underneath.

"You're too damn good at your job, Miller…" You frowned, "I keep telling you to stop asking questions."

"Kinda hard to be your wingman when I'm flying blind."

"This is a dogfight you don't wanna be a part of…Deckart didn't listen, and look how he ended up…"

"Oof…geez." The shoulders of his coat rose and fell, "Look, I'm gonna put this as delicately as I can. You'll probably get mad at me for saying it, but I'm gonna say it anyway."

"Tch, what's new…"

The vinyl rim of his hat shined as his chin rose, "Deckart was a great cop, and an even better man, but he wasn't a trained and vetted Marine."

He wasn't wrong, but the comment did irritate you. Still, you understood the point he was trying to make. He was just so goddamn naïve…

"There are some threats you can't shoot, Chris."

He huffed through his nose, and looked off to the side. The snow fell in uneven bands as the two of you honored a moment of silence, only to be disturbed by distant chatter and Chris pushing off his knees to stand.

"I'll take your word for it."

He offered a gloved hand. Your palm slapped into his, and he pulled you to your feet. You stretched, data pad extending towards the sky as your joints cracked and your muscles flexed.

You smirked, "10-4."

"SWAT just ain't my speed. Too many rules and regulations." Gavin leaned on the railing overlooking the city, ashing his cigarette, "I'm perfectly fine with my office job that lets me shotgun my way through the occasional door."

You had your arms crossed, your weight held by the cold steel next to him. His back faced the rest of the group, and you were a wallflower watching the CSI team pick the roof apart in the background.

"Shotguns are small game, Reed. Imagine gunning down a flock of Bandits with one of these bad boys." Allen pointed his assault rifle in the air, the stock balanced in the crook of his elbow while he put another hand on his hip.

He was dressed to the nine in his SWAT attire; a cobra baring its fangs on his arm's patch. His helmet was latched to his hip, an earpiece extending towards his mouth.

"Give it a rest, Sarge." Chris spit on the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "I've seen what kind of shitstorm Reed can brew up with a shotty. He's got no business with a fully-automatic."

"Captain." Allen sneered as he slapped the barrel of the gun in his hand, rolling his shoulders, "I'm not your Sergeant anymore, soldier."

"You'll always be Sarge." Chris chuckled, "And it's officer."

"Heh, who am I kidding…We'll always be Marines, eh?"

"Semper Fi, my man."

They bumped fists, and you couldn't help but smirk at the comradery. You wondered what kind of hell they'd been through to end up where they were. Held a certain respect for them because their job, at one point, was to take care of it so you wouldn't have to.

"How about your partner?"

Your brows perked up as you turned your head towards the seasoned veteran, "Me?"

"Yeah. You."

Captain Allen had always been an intense man. If you'd met him outside of the DPD, you'd immediately guess that his life's path put him on the front lines somewhere. There were those made for certain lines of work. Summoned to serve a specific calling.

With his build, stature; shit, even his voice, you couldn't picture him without layers of padded armor and three different types of guns holstered or slung around his body.

Not someone you wanted to piss off or disregard.

"What are you, SWAT's new poster boy or something?" Collins scoffed.

"Tangos got away. Figured I'd get some recruiting done if I'm gonna get paid to stand around with my thumb up my ass." Allen looked at Chris, "You and your partner ditch amateur hour, we'll strike the fear of God in her with some old-fashioned military discipline, and she'll be rappelling outta' helicopters all over Detroit with you at the controls. What do you say?"

"I say hell fucking no."

"Rappelling out of helicopters?" You grinned, "You at the controls?"

"That's right." Allen nodded at your partner, "Miller here was the best goddamn Pilot I ever served with. Felt a lot better knowing he was in the air when my squad and I were out on patrol."

The image of Chris Miller, the biggest goofball in the DPD, flying a helicopter armed with rocket pods and turrets was one you couldn't visualize. Then again, it was possible that his signature humor came with the more relaxed environment. Maybe "Pilot Miller," and "Officer Miller," were two different people.

"Yeah, and then we ended up here…" Chris snickered.

Allen let out a thoughtful sigh, "Why'd we ever leave?"

"Because 'if the Marines wanted me to have a wife and child, I would've been issued one.' You? That's anyone's guess...Either way, the pay was a whole hell of a lot better."

"You can say that again…" Allen covered a yawn, "But you know what I don't miss? Those long days at Quantico."

You perked up, "I thought Quantico was like, FBI something or other?"

"I'm glad you brought that up." Gavin stomped out his cigarette, turning around, "The fuck is the FBI doing here, anyway?"

You cringed at his unprofessionalism, but Allen didn't seem to question it.

"You kidding me?" Collins butted in, "They're homeland security. I'm glad they're here."

Gavin smacked his lips, "I just don't like that Perkins guy. Something ain't sitting right with me about him."

You fought the urge to let out a long, drawn-out groan and tell him he had no idea. You settled with, "Me neither."

Your elbow bumped into him as you shifted your weight.

"Watch it." Gavin nudged you.

"You watch it."

"I was here first, dickhead."

Captain Allen cleared his throat, and you both looked up like disciplined kids.

"We call MCB Quantico the 'Crossroads of the Marine Corps.' You've got the Officer Candidates School, Basic School, and Corps University for us Marines. Then there's the FBI Academy, DEA Training Academy, CID Command…" He shook his head, "Dealt with Perkins more than I wanted to, back in the day. We competed on a lot of things, even if we were there for different reasons. He was always an asshole..."

"You and Perkins duking it out?" Chris let out a breathless laugh, "You have, like, half a foot and 20 pounds of muscle on the guy."

"Wasn't like that." Allen took on a more serious tone as if revisiting a strained memory, "We were both young and excelling in our specialization training. Me, Marines. Him, FBI. People compared us a lot, but we hadn't ever met."

He held up a finger, pressing another to his earpiece.

"Copy that. Leave them in the kitchen, we'll figure out what to do with them later."

You scratched around your itchy bandage, trying to remember what was-

The androids. Station operators. Right.

"Anyway, one day I run into the guy. I try to be cordial, right, because Marines set a standard. This clown smirks, dismisses my handshake, and says some bullshit one-liner about jarheads and dumb grunts."

"Lines up with what my colleagues in Virginia had to say." Collins coughed, patting his mouth with a handkerchief, "He's a proficient scavenger, and opportunistic as hell."

"And that's why whoever…whatever, he's here for?" Allen grunted, "Kinda feel bad for 'em."

"You do?" You asked.

You didn't hesitate. Didn't even think about it. The question just rolled out of your mouth like an exhale.

"He's…Hard to explain." Allen cracked his knuckles, zoning out, "National stability keeps him up at night. He obsesses over critical flaws in the system. He doesn't give two shits about civilians, and takes it personal when this country isn't running like a well-oiled machine. It's like his only purpose in life is to hunt things that destabilize established order. Never gives up."

Chris exhaled, "Phew…for someone that's hard to explain, you sure know a lot about him."

"He was on my ass once, a few months after you left. Accused me of harboring deviants within the Myrmidons." He sucked his teeth, "That's some crazy shit, right?"

"I remember thinking that was pretty out-of-whack the first time I heard about it, yeah."

"They tell you the 'Jackal' story?"

"Yep, and then they told me about the 'Diamond Dog.'" Chris's lips rasped, and he almost buckled from laughing so hard.

You and Gavin looked at each other, shrugging. Captain Allen pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It was one. Time."

The roof access door slammed open. You almost jumped out of your skin from the sudden "bang."

The rest of the group was just as unsettled.

"Shit, sorry." Hank eased his hands, "Wind's stronger than I thought."

Connor shielded his eyes; narrowing at the sudden light. The wind tossed the end of his tie, sending snow over his jacket and hair. It stung your eyes and numbed the aching bruises on your body.

Still didn't make you as cold as the fuming stare coming from the android.

Hank cupped his knees, panting before stumbling upright, "Of course you're up here with 'em."

He directed the comment at you; out of breath, his cheeks puffing as he exhaled sharply.

Connor raised a brow, folding his arms behind his back, "Light physical activities such as ascending a small flight of stairs wouldn't feel as strenuous if you changed your diet, Lieutenant."

He was obviously still in a mood.

"Shut the fuck up." Hank flipped him off.

Connor's face scrunched at that, his hands rubbing the cold from themselves absentmindedly.

"Hey, Hank." Collins waved.

"Hey Ben. How's it goin'?"

"Peachy."

"Lieutenant Anderson and RoboCop…" Gavin scoffed, "I don't get a 'hi?'"

"Missing androids and an asshole," Hank rolled his eyes, "Just what I needed…"

You drowned out the infighting that ensued between the band of DPD legends, fixated on the man with perfect posture despite the blizzard's best attempts to move him. The slight pinch in his brow, the tension along his jaw that etched pockets in his cheeks. The subtle movements from what you could only imagine was from rows of teeth grinding against each other.

"I know you." Allen balanced his scope on his shoulder, taking a lazy step forward, "You're Connor. The android from that hostage situation."

You dropped your focus, defaulting to your holster. Empty holster? You'd forgotten you'd lost possession of your gun after Markus confiscated it.

You shifted your side away before anyone noticed.

"Correct." Connor fixed his tie.

"Lucky you showed up when you did since this one likes to get her ass kicked on rooftops."

You froze, looking out in the winter-veiled city, "…Thanks, Captain."

"No problem."

Hank groaned as he began trudging through the snow, taking in the crime scene as his fingers toyed with-

A coin?

"They made their way up through the whole building, passed all the guards, and jumped off the roof with parachutes…" He paused, nodding to no one as he huffed, "Pretty fuckin' impressive, I'd say."

"Don't give them compliments." Allen's lip twitched, "These runaway twats don't hold a candle to the Myrmidons they had me training in Afghanistan. Those guys were the real deal..."

"You trained androids?" Chris lifted his chin from his data pad, "Don't you hate, androids?"

"I hate everyone, Miller."

"Ah, right. My mistake."

"Read an article on those Mire...Myrm-things." Hank put his fists on his hips, scrunching his nose, "Something about military androids not having enough moral reasoning to make life-and-death decisions."

"You talking about that thing Detroit Today published?" Allen looked over his shoulder.

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Saw that. Written by Bob Woods, the head of a war victims NGP or some gimmicky bullshit. Guy's probably never held a gun in his life and has no fucking idea what he's talking about."

A flick of a lighter had the inside of Ben's hands glowing. He squinted as he gripped a cigarette between his teeth, blowing out a puff of smoke.

"You ever miss the days when everything wasn't a debate and we could just do our jobs?" He muttered, "I sure do…"

Gavin waved his arms to the sides, motioning towards Connor, "Leave it to androids to come around and fuck everything up."

Connor's head cocked to the side, his eyes hooded, and hands folded in front of him.

"Better off just giving these deviants the firing squad treatment…"

It wasn't him who'd fire back, however.

Captain Allen shifted his weight, jabbing the snow with the stock of his rifle and pointing a finger, "If shooting insubordinate squad members was how we dealt with things around here, you'd be the first on my list after how you handled that undercover op." His eyes flickered to you, "Maybe second."

This is what life was going to be like. Just one slander, scolding, lecture – whatever, until some android would finally get it right and just land one in your fucking head.

"They're machines." Gavin waved him off, "They're either operational, or defective. They can't be 'insubordinate.' That implies they have a choice not to listen."

"Detective Reed." Connor interrupted, "Please, inquire about my model again."

His neck snapped around, "The fuck did you just say to me?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not authorized to answer you." He squinted, "If you have any questions, please contact your superior."

Chris hid a laugh with a cough, and Hank didn't even bother. He let out a hoarse chuckle, and it forced a grin on Connor's stern face. He enjoyed a proud moment of victory as he looked at the Lieutenant out of the corner of his eye. Hank nudged his elbow, giving him an approving nod.

"Nice one, kid."

"Whatever." Gavin snorted, "You're all outta your fuckin' minds."

"Reed," Collins gave him a flat expression, "This is why I can't take you anywhere…"

"Isn't it past your nap time?"

Ben checked his watch, "Ye-up."

"Alright, I think I've heard enough. Get all those feelings in check – we've got a job to do." Captain Allen hoisted his rifle, "FBI's not showing us up in our own damn city."

"Ah, Jesus Christ…" Hank yawned, letting out an obnoxious sound, waving his hands sarcastically, "Go team."

"Birds are grounded because of the weather, so let's get to it, people!" Allen spun a finger around in a circle as he left your small group of renegades, "I wanna get this wrapped up before dinner!"

Dinner.

An android "terrorist" just proclaimed freedom for his entire race and all this guy was worried about was dinner…

Must be nice.