November 9th, 2038

PM 01:39:06


Hearing what Allen had to say didn't make you feel any more confident about the trained FBI investigator on your heels. If anything, it made you want to run.

To run far away like your lawyer had told you and never look back. Maybe Canada, where androids weren't even a thing. International policies to keep you safe. Wouldn't that be nice?

Out of sight, out of mind.

Not being able to just quit had always been one of your character flaws. More useful than not, unless involved in a country-wide conspiracy with the world's largest enterprise.

Whatever.

You were done thinking about it. Done thinking about anything other than the task at hand, really. Even that was a struggle.

You thought you'd learned your lesson the first time you slept with someone you worked with. Granted, that'd been with your husband…at the company you helped build with him…but still. Connor didn't distract you any less.

He was in his zone. Returned to his machine state as he lost himself in his element, skipping from one evidence marker to the next and grabbing a CSI member to drop a new one if he found something they'd missed. The fact that he didn't seem distracted bothered you.

And that was petty.

You couldn't escape him. Even in your data pad, his model and serial number would spring up where he'd do his job better than his human counterparts.

You didn't know how Chris did it…just, walked around with this stupid fucking tablet; letting everyone else do the work while he delegated. It was boring.

There was a certain ambience to a crime scene; the thrill of the unknown as a collective team chased ghosts. It was energetic, even when it wasn't. Being forced to stand around and swipe at a screen for hours was the exception to that.

To be perfectly honest, you weren't even sure what everyone was looking for. You'd seen the androids in person and provided statements as to what models they were. The message had been shot from a specific angle downstairs, and no one had actually died. All this investigation was being orchestrated for was a collection of evidence to be presented in court.

You, however, knew what you were looking for. Or who.

The android that had been stashed somewhere, and was injured. Probably armed.

You pulled the vent's cover off, checking behind it as you clicked on the flashlight hovering over your shoulder. You pointed it at all corners, looking for any sign of Thirium. There was nothing.

"What are you doing?"

Getting tired of people sneaking up on you. It wasn't Chris this time, though.

You wished it was.

"Nothing."

"You don't ever do anything without a reason..."

You snaked your neck to the right, just catching his figure in your peripherals. You sighed, clicked your flashlight off, and stood.

"…Which is why I'd like to know the reasoning behind putting yourself in danger. Again."

Connor was hugging himself, cold and furious.

A knot of regret tied itself around the stakes in your gut labeled shame and failure.

"I heard you over the radio. I heard everything."

"I was just doing my job."

"You could have died! They could have killed you!" He looked around, catching himself as he let his anger get the best of him, "I understand, now. I understand more than I ever have."

"Understand what?" You mumbled.

"Why everyone gets so mad at you when you pull things like this." His eyes dropped to the snow, and he pushed up the flaps of his jacket as his hands molded around his waist, "It's because we all care what happens to you more than you do."

You didn't have a rebuttal. Couldn't form a quip fast enough to stop his reprimand.

"I shouldn't be surprised." His tongue clicked behind his teeth, "Honestly. I mean, look how we met."

Your brows knitted together, your mouth pulling back in a grimace. You tilted your head, switching your weight between legs.

"That…"

He went to say something, and you raised your hands to silence him.

"That was low."

He reached for you, but you took a step back. He whispered your name. You still refused to look at him. You dropped your arms as you turned, angrily marching around the electrical box that hid the two of you.

You almost slipped backwards on a patch of ice as he grabbed you, pulling you back behind it. Your heart started pounding, and an angry pair of brown eyes dug further into you than Perkins did.

"I'm not sorry for loving you, and I'm not sorry for being mad at you for being reckless." A deep kiss burned the cut on your lip, and the back of your head pressed against the steel box until he was finished, "You're lucky this is the worst that happened to you."

You breathed in the words as he swiped your cheek with his thumb, leaving you cringing. It felt good to have him touch you again, even if the wound didn't agree. Made your heart flutter and your lips tingle.

You hated him for this; how you couldn't stay mad at him for long. Couldn't hold anything against him because with one look, one kiss, he gave you all the excuses and reasoning he needed to justify anything.

"Should've seen the other girl." You smirked, cupping his palm against your face.

"You were attacked by an android that fits the dimensions of a WR400 model. Footprints indicate a PJ500 and PL600 were present, accompanied by an unknown android type. I'm assuming that was Markus."

Your jaw flexed and unflexed. Event reconstruction. Detective android prototype. Duh.

His voice fell just above a whisper, his features collapsing in on themselves as his head swayed from where your fight began, to where it ended.

"…She struck you with your own gun after you hit her with your baton." His brows creased, looking over to where Simon once laid slouched, "Where is your gun, now?"

"Markus took it." You pushed yourself up, "He said he…"

Connor's neck curved to the right, eyes narrowing.

"Connor?"

"I found something."

"Wait-" You rushed after him as he took off, "What did you find?"

"A trail."

"But he could be armed-" You swallowed, trying to wet your throat as your voice cracked.

"So it's okay for you to risk your life, but not me?" He snickered, throwing a condescending look over his shoulder, "An android that can have its parts replaced?"

He stopped, and you ran into him.

"Oof-"

Your nose landed against the gaps between his shoulders, a blazing white "ANDROID" LED bouncing off your forehead.

He didn't budge.

"Spare parts…"

He turned his chin, his LED spinning in yellow. His middle finger flicked against his thumb in a nervous tick; his eyes fluttering before finding yours.

"What Perkins said…about the RT600."

You rubbed your nose, giving him a deadpanned glare, "Perkins can go fuck himself…"

"Yes, while that may be true…" His face fell into a frown, "I'm afraid we have a more complex matter to discuss."

"I don't know, Connor. Potential charges for treason are pretty complex." You shrugged, "I would know."

"Special Agent Perkins described this 'Jericho' as a collection of persons rather than an individual. After he mentioned them, and said they knew you, he played the recording back…This body language implies there's a connection between Jericho, and Markus." He paced, tapping his finger on his chin before holding his hand out, "There were multiple androids involved at the CyberLife warehouse raid, and they appeared to be organized." He snapped his fingers, "What if they were the same group who infiltrated the Stratford Tower?" And then his eyes narrowed at you, "Why did Perkins ask you if you still agreed to their 'amicable terms?'"

Your face pulled back, and you cleared your throat. One thumb hooked in your utility belt, the other rubbing the back of your neck.

"I, uhm…" You rolled it in your palm, a pointed elbow lowering itself, "I got this comment, on my article…signed by Jericho…"

"And what did it say?" He crossed his arms.

"'We agree to your terms. Expect us.'"

His lips slightly parted, and he shook his head with his words, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I read it after I left Carl's, alright?" You held your hands out, "You and I were fighting…kind of? And then the next time I saw you was in the elevator."

The pressing expression; the interrogator, went flat. His chin fell, and his eyes darted to the side. He gulped, hugging himself in the cold…

"Hey," You put your hand on his shoulder, and his face snapped back to yours, "You were on to something. What was it?"

The red LED on his head; the one he'd hid from you, stabilized.

"When I analyzed Markus's face, I discovered something. I didn't want to say it in front of Perkins, but with ARI's assistance, he was able to…" His eyes glazed over as he focused, and then he blinked, "Call my bluff."

"About what?"

"Markus's replacement eye." His lips formed a flat line, "It came from the RT600 that shot herself at the Kamski residence."

The first thing that came to mind was your revolver, pressed against her chin – a reflection of you with your voice, mannerisms…eye color. And how that eye, the mismatched iris on Markus's face; the eye that matched yours, was actually from that carbon copy of you.

Then was the revelation of it all. The buzzing in your ears and the blurring of your focus like someone was jamming your senses with a scrambler. Shock. Yeah, shock is what it was called.

It was just so sickeningly poetic.

Connor waved his hand in front of your eyes.

"Please follow my finger as it moves."

You grabbed his wrist, and pushed it down, "How do you know?"

"I checked their disposal records while Perkins was trying to intimidate you."

You snorted, "Trying?"

"While Perkins was intimidating you." He frowned, "Chloe and Markus were taken to the same scrap yard. It would seem only one of them made it out."

"CONNOR!" Hank called, scaring both of you.

He turned the corner, finding the two of you standing idle.

"The fuck are you doin-" He paused, looking at you with gloves on his hands, "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

You took a step back, trying to hide your embarrassment.

"No, just, uh…going over some details."

"Details?"

"Yeah."

"We were discussing information involving the-" Connor started.

"Don't bother." Hank nodded over his shoulder, "You heard Allen. Back to work."

"Coming, Lieutenant!"

You sighed, looking at your data pad as you and Connor followed him. You broke out from the shadow of the electrical box, right eye squinting as it was blinded by a bright sun.

Hank began digging through a black duffle back, picking up a backpack of sorts. He eyed it up and dropped it.

"How'd they manage to smuggle in a big bag like this?"

"They didn't…" Connor observed.

The pad in your hands linked his newest observation to an android technician's hat found in the control room.

"Someone brought it in for them."

"You think the employees thought they were just maintenance or something?" You asked.

"That is the most likely scenario, yes."

"Oh, that's strange…" Hank ripped open the bag's flap, taking in the inventory, "They planned a perfect operation but got the number of parachutes wrong."

"…I don't think that's what happened here." Connor crouched, his fingers swiping at the crate.

"Oh, Connor – you're so disgusting-" Hank shielded his eyes as Connor dabbed his fingertip on his tongue, "I think I'm gonna puke again…"

For you, it brought back different memories.

"The injured android, the PL600." Connor looked at you, "It had damaged biocomponents. The way this Thirium streaks…right here…I think one of the deviants was left behind."

"No. No, no, no." Hank waved his hands, "Every time you say that, I either end up hanging off a building, getting beat up by robot hookers, or watching you climbing into attics."

He was on the move again, tracing an invisible trail, "Not if I find it first, Lieutenant."

"Or we just, not find it." You shrugged.

Hank stepped in front of you, jabbing a finger in your chest, "They shot someone. Hurt you. And who knows if this thing is armed or not?"

"Well, you see…" You pursed your lips, "I…I may have lost my gun during the, uh…quarrel?"

His mouth dropped open, leaning in, "You what?"

You shied away from him, "Yeah, so…"

"Why didn't you say anything?!"

"Because if I fuck up again, Fowler's gonna fire me!"

"You can't get fired if you're dead! You shouldn't have even been up here!"

A loud, hollow, metal bang broke up your argument.

"OPEN UP, DETROIT POLICE!"

The two of you looked towards the source. Connor yelled at the sliding electrical door, and a team of SWAT members surrounded him in a circle.

Your eyes widened, and you fumbled with your radio to tune it to the proper channel.

"…n my mark." Captain Allen's voice screeched through and clarified in sync with someone tapping along Connor's shoulder.

He had his helmet on, but you guessed that was Allen. He pressed his back against the large unit.

"What the fuck are they doin'?" Hank held a flat hand above his eyes.

Allen shoved the door open, ducking into a crouch, rolling his shoulder off the edge, and aiming his gun inside. The rest of the unit held position…Connor included. He was on the other side, right in harm's way with the SWAT Captain.

You didn't think you could watch without having a heart attack or falling into a fit of hysteria. So you didn't. Your eyes screwed shut, your hands curled, and you turned away; bracing for the pop of a familiar gun.

"Clear to engage, I've got your six." Captain Allen gave the order.

"Oh, DON'T YOU-" Hank's roar had you watching anyway, "CONNOR, NO!"

He kicked up snow as he ran, a SWAT member breaking from the circle that closed behind him like true professionals. He met Hank halfway, struggling to fight him off and keep him at a safe distance.

Connor was inside the unit, now. You couldn't see him. Didn't know if he was alive, or in danger; trapped in that box of endless possibilities. Stuck in a state of entanglement and paradoxical effects; existing in two realms at once…

Until he stepped out, unscathed.

"The android is inactive. All units, stand-down." Allen's helmet nodded, "Connor, do what you need to do."

You didn't hear his response, and didn't really care what it was.

You were just grateful curiosity hadn't been enough to kill Schrödinger's Cat.

Well…

One cat, at least.